Crossroads of Fate
by Ame Yumeko
Summary: After Link rewrites history, the Hylians set a trap for Ganondorf, but a mysterious wizard helps him escape. Zelda goes into hiding in the mountains and by chance befriends a peasant girl who might hold the key to changing all their destinies. Where the paths of fate cross, a new future is born. (Rated for violence, character death, mature themes. No smut.)
1. And so we end before we begin

_Hey, listen! In order to help people avoid accidental exposure to things they don't want to read, I'm going to provide specific content warnings at the top of each chapter. Such warnings will necessarily contain spoilers. Please message me if there's something you feel should be tagged; I will do my best to be accommodating._

 _ **Content warnings for this chapter:** Violence, including violence against an animal, in the context of war. Blood. Character death. Possible implied Zelink. Prologue that does not appear to match the story summary, but will eventually tie in._

 _It gets better, I promise._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **And so we end before we begin**

All three of them knew there was nothing left worth fighting for.

A dry wind hissed through the once-green grass of Eldin plain, carrying the stench of gangrene and sulfur. The sun's last rays rippled across the foul pools that had collected where hooves and soldiers' boots had churned the ground into a crimson muck, a glimmer of disturbing beauty amid the charnel. Not one nation had been spared. Gorons and Zora, even Yeti and Mogma, risen as one in this desperate hour only to be cut down together. Hylians, Gerudo and Sheikah, who had fought the most bitterly among themselves, whose bones would be indistinguishable when the carrion birds were through with them. On the southern horizon, smoke billowed up from the jagged ruin of the castle to meet the bloated miasma swirling above, clouds that held no promise of rain. No matter. There was not enough rain in all the heavens to wash this land clean.

No matter who won today, Hyrule was lost. Nonetheless, they would go through the motions, one for the sake of his own pride and the other two on principle. Perhaps, Zelda thought in a moment of bitterness, staring down the demon king on the opposite ridge, there was really no difference after all. Was it not her actions, her _scheming_ , that had brought this upon them? In her arrogance she had believed they could control the power of the gods.

In front of her, she felt Link shift in the saddle. Tension rippled through his shoulders as he grasped the hilt of the Master Sword. Ganondorf's horse reared. Another gust of putrid wind billowed through his cape—red laced with gold, blood-stained earth and dying sunlight—and his cruel laughter echoed across the battlefield.

The holy blade flashed out of its scabbard. Zelda readied a light arrow. She made a silent promise as they plunged headlong into the valley. Link would not die for her today. If one of them had a chance to live, it should be him.

Zelda had seen too many good people die in these past years. The Nohansens, the Gustavians, every other noble house who had sworn loyalty to her family. Eight different commanders of the Knights of Hyrule, the last a boy younger than her, whose only qualification was that he was brave enough. The fellow who ran the fishing pond at Lake Hylia, where she had loved to visit in the summer when she was young. That guard from Kakariko who was obsessed with Keaton, and the woman who raised hypoallergenic cuccos. The local postman, who one afternoon staggered, bleeding, into the throne room with dire news from the west—Ganondorf had purged the ranks, put his own second-in-command to the sword, and no Gerudo remained who would dare oppose their king's ambition. Noble Darunia, her father's sworn brother. King Zora and his spirited daughter Ruto. Zelda's beloved attendant Impa, the closest thing to a mother she had known. Her father, Hyrule's last king.

And Malon, the rancher who had given them the horse on whose back they were now hurtling toward their fate. She had been little more than a stranger to Zelda, though she and her father were frequently at the castle peddling milk and eggs—one of the familiar faces who passed just outside her tightly-constricted social orbit. But when she and Link came pounding on the ranch door in the dead of night after a desperate flight from fallen Hyrule Castle, Malon had embraced her like a sister. Zelda had a foggy memory of sitting, white-faced and shivering, in front of Lon Lon's hearth. Malon pushing a mug of something warm into her hand, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, giving her the precious gifts of companionship and silence. Then the next morning, offering them all the supplies they needed, bowing and saying it was her honor to serve the queen. She must have known what she was risking by aiding them. The last time they saw her, she was sitting on top of the dovecote framed by the morning sun, hanging the blue and green banner that declared her loyalty.

Ganondorf had noticed.

Link wept openly when they found her, the first time Zelda had seen him shed tears. Until that moment he had seemed to her a stoic pillar of strength, and she had relied on him without a second thought. It shook her profoundly to see his pain, his weakness, his _humanity_ laid bare. Only then had she recognized her own cruelty.

He was innocent when she met him, halfway to adulthood, wide-eyed at the sights and sounds of the big city, and dazzled to meet a beautiful princess who said she had seen him in her dreams. He was the only one who had believed her. And she'd repaid him by drawing him into her war. Even now he never showed the least sign of resentment, though she had offered him nothing and cost him everything. Even now the selfless hero remained, though the boy was long gone.

A month or so after Lon Lon, as they sifted through the charred ruins of Kokiri Village, he had not wept. Since that day he wore courage like a mask, and the sword seemed to wield him rather than the other way round. It occurred to her that even if Link survived, the life that remained for him was one of endless isolated wandering, searching the wasteland for survivors. Too many good people. Dead, because of her.

What would she give for some way to turn back time?

Ganondorf brandished his greatsword in one hand, eight spans of ornately carved black steel as grandiose as the man himself, and Zelda banished her guilt. There would be time enough for that when the battle was over. Maybe in whatever afterlife was waiting for her.

She wished, not for the first time, that she had spent more of the previous decade training for combat. She hated the way time seemed to compress, forcing her to simply react, make decisions without thinking. Ganondorf was a hundred yards away; she blinked and he was right in front of them. Sword met sword with a jolt that rattled her teeth. Link parried with expert form, but the raw power behind the blow was enough to knock him off balance all the same. Zelda lunged and caught his hand before he completely fell out of the saddle. He slung his other arm over Epona's neck and heaved himself back up.

In those few seconds, the warlock brought his steed around and charged at them from behind. He was on them before Zelda could draw, and she cried out involuntarily as the blade came slashing down at her. She would have been dead if Epona were not so perfectly in tune with her rider, but a slight twist of Link's knees steered them out of the way at the last second. The mare needed very little encouragement to put some distance between them. On level ground she was not quite as fast as Ganondorf's mount, but here, where they could duck and weave between the hills, her nimbleness gave them an advantage.

Violet shadows cloaked the moonless sky. They crested another hill, splashed through a shallow pond, and descended into a narrow ravine. Ganondorf closed in on them again, galloping at full speed through the treacherous terrain. Zelda braced herself and took aim, but the golden glare of her magic weapon blinded her still-adjusting eyes. Hoofbeats thundered off the rocky walls; her own heartbeat pounded in her ears. When she finally took the shot, they had to turn sharply to skirt a boulder, causing it to fly wide.

They burst out of the canyon, into an open field overlooking the Zora River Gorge. About half a mile ahead, the ground dropped away in a sheer cliff. Gritting his teeth, Link urged Epona on, heading for a slight overhang where the gorge narrowed just enough that some brave fool might think his horse could make the jump.

But not fully equipped for battle and carrying two riders. Surely he wasn't going to try?

Nonetheless, she would trust him. She turned to look back and nocked another arrow. Ganondorf summoned a fistful of compressed lightning, with the other hand he raised his sword to strike again. One bolt struck the ground beside them, kicking up a shower of dirt and rocks. Another hissed past her head, ozone and prickling heat. Abruptly Link tilted his head, eyeing the Master Sword almost as if he'd heard it speak to him. Ganondorf unleashed another thunderbolt aimed straight for them, but to her astonishment, Link batted it aside. She recalled then how the Sheikah used to whisper about the power of the holy blade to deflect any spell cast in malice.

The cliff's edge rushed toward them at alarming speed. At the last second, Link brought Epona skidding to a halt and pivoted, giving Zelda a clear shot. The bowstring sang, the arrow struck true. Ganondorf roared in pain and anger, lolling to one side in his saddle as the enchanted light sent his body into uncontrollable spasms. Spurring Epona forward once more, Link swooped in and knocked him to the ground with one clean blow. His horse bolted into the hills.

They were not foolish enough to think he was defeated.

Link swung down from the saddle, signaling for her to stay on the horse. It made sense to her, from a tactical standpoint—it would give her a higher vantage point and allow for a quick escape if need be. But with every step he took away from her, she felt less safe.

Too late she sensed the subtle shift in the wind, the tremor in the earth, the hum in the aether that warned of an immense influx of magical power. A low growl rose in the demon king's throat. He lurched to his feet, clutching a writhing ball of darkness. The wind rose to a howling gale; the inky mass twisted around itself with a sound like bones breaking. Bellowing in fury, Ganondorf thrust his hands at them, and the darkness surged forward in a beam. Link threw himself in front of her, shield raised in a desperate attempt at defense, but it was no use.

Teeth-clenching agony wracked her body, but the pain was more than just physical torment. It was sorrow, despair, self-loathing and shame, the essence of her enemy's hatred pressing in on her from all sides. Gravity lost all meaning. She tumbled into the dirt, Epona's heart-wrenching scream ringing in her ears. Through the haze of pain and shock, she heard Link shouting her name. Then the horse's bulk came crashing down on her, and she knew no more.

* * *

For a few seconds, Link stood frozen in mute horror at the sight of Epona's broken body and Zelda pinned under her. The beam had merely grazed him, enough to knock him out of the way while they took the full brunt of the attack. Some protector he was.

Malon would have been heartbroken. Even now he had failed her again, just as he had failed all his friends so many times.

The crackle of electricity forced him to look up. Ganondorf stood two long strides away, leering down at him through a swirling orb of lightning, which he proceeded to hurl at Link's face. Link knocked it back at him with a slash that was mostly reflex. Battle instincts took over. He lunged in the direction Ganondorf would have to move to avoid his own magic. His left arm tingled, the sword whispering a warning. With a backhand swipe, Ganondorf turned the spell on him again. He rolled to the side, leaving the lightning to dissipate harmlessly on the ground, came up behind and struck at the back of his knee. Ganondorf hissed in pain and stumbled. Link spared the Master Sword a grim smile, never quite taking his eyes off his foe.

It spoke to him at times, though not in words. It was more of a series of impressions—the best way he could describe it was the sort of feeling a skilled dancer might awaken in her audience. From the moment he saw the sword, on the day Zelda led him to the ancient pedestal hidden in the woods near Castle Town, he had sensed its call, though the princess had warned him not to touch it. It was a sacred weapon, forged by the gods themselves to ward off evils only they could contemplate.

Zelda had brought him to the sacred grove because it was a nice spot for a picnic.

At the time, the evil they were facing had seemed like a worldly variety. Ganondorf was a bad man, to be sure, but they would gather evidence against him and convict him in a court of law. That was how justice worked, Zelda had said, and he always believed her.

Three years ago, when Ganondorf dropped his amicable ruse and kidnapped Zelda, he had ignored that warning. The desert king was no longer a mere troublemaker, he was a threat to all of Hyrule. Surely the gods would take notice of that? Though if Link were honest with himself, he would admit it had more to do with the threat to the woman who had made him feel, for the first time, like his life had a purpose. Like he was somebody. A hero.

If he were honest with himself, he still had no idea what that word meant.

Blood seeped into the linen wrappings on Ganondorf's leg—printed with interlocking red and blue lines, a symbol of Gerudo pride and unity, although hundreds of his sisters had died resisting his tyranny. Snarling, he leveled his gigantic blade at Link. They circled each other, Link's light-footed shuffle a counterpoint to Ganondorf's heavy, measured stride. Link couldn't see Zelda anymore. He tried not to wonder if she was still alive. He thought he saw an opening and risked striking first. But Ganondorf was quicker than he seemed. He deflected the jab and kicked Link in the shoulder. Link turned the momentum into a backflip and steadied himself, grimacing. He thought his collarbone might be fractured. At least it wasn't his sword arm. Ganondorf lunged, swinging with enough force to cut him in half. This was a mistake—Link sprang out of the way, and the blade buried itself several inches into the dirt. In the half second Ganondorf spent trying to wrench it free, he unleashed his signature maneuver, a whirling slash augmented by a storm of fairy fire. Ganondorf staggered back and lost his grip on the massive sword. Before he could recover, Link grabbed it and flung it off the cliff.

Ganondorf was unperturbed. With casual languor, he unfastened his cape and tossed it aside. The crest blazed on the back of his hand, casting a soft yellow glow over his jet-black armor. That was Link's fault too. He hadn't expected to be transported to another world after he drew the sword. When he found the mythic golden triangles shining at the heart of that realm, he had treated them as another item for his arsenal. One more tool to defeat the darkness. But the Triforce, that ancient relic of the creator goddesses that ironically had been Ganondorf's true aim all along, had shattered in his hands. Back then he hadn't understood how it worked. Courage had been enough for him to rally the Hylian army and rescue Zelda. Afterwards, startled by the crest of Wisdom on her own hand, the princess had done some research and learned a bit of ancient lore about the Triforce: unless the heart of the one who touched it was in perfect balance, they could only claim one of the three forces. The others would be given to those chosen by the gods. They were left to wonder where Power had gone. When the Hylians took Ganondorf to Arbiter's Grounds, to face justice of a final and rather grisly sort, they found out.

Zelda no longer believed courts and laws would save them from evil.

Now he could see that Ganondorf had been carrying another sword beneath the cape, a sliver of sharpened moonlight with a fluted hilt. The one they had tried to use at his execution. In spite of everything, Link had to admit it was a rather poetic touch.

It was also much lighter than his first weapon. Ganondorf went on the attack again, with fluid agility that belied his hulking stature, and Link realized with a sinking feeling that his opponent had not been taking him seriously until now. The sword was a luminous blur. He found himself retreating. Ganondorf overreached slightly; he ducked under his arm and tried to counter. Not fast enough. Their blades locked together. For a few long moments, the air was sharp and still, blood and sweat and the hiss of grinding metal. Link pushed back with all the strength he could muster, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, but Ganondorf shoved him off balance, knocked his shield out of his hand, and slammed the heel of his palm into his chest. Link went down hard. His head struck the ground, and for a moment his vision went dark. Blinking and gasping, he tried to sit up, but Ganondorf planted a foot on his torso.

Suddenly death was staring down at him, and courage was only a word. There was a difference, after all, between not having much left to live for and being ready to die. Ganondorf raised the sword to plunge it into his heart.

At the last second there was a twang and a soft crunch. Ganondorf stopped short, eyes white-rimmed in shock. Gingerly, he reached up to touch the tip of the glowing arrow protruding from his forehead. He dropped to his knees, then fell face-down. The figure behind him lowered her bow with solemn satisfaction.

Zelda.

Vigor flowed back into him. The pain of his wounds seemed to melt away, and he leaped to his feet. She smiled at him, unsteadily at first, warmer and stronger as he ran toward her. She was alive. There was still hope in the world. At least he had not failed in this.

Her fingertips barely brushed his, when a surge of dark energy knocked him back. His mouth fell open in disbelief. Ganondorf stood, grinning like a maniac, and snapped off the arrow shaft. His shadow fell over the princess as he turned, gripped her by the shoulder with a strange sort of gentleness. Link threw himself forward headlong, determined to put his sword, his body, anything between Zelda and the demon king, but the ground was sinking sand and he was running underwater, _too slow too far too late_ —

Ganondorf jabbed the arrowhead into Zelda's abdomen. A high-pitched cry escaped her lips as she doubled over, clutching at the wound. He grabbed her by the throat, lifted her off the ground, and twisted. There was a sickening crack. Zelda went limp.

And hope died with her.

* * *

Ganondorf had expected to feel _something_ when he snapped her neck.

The act itself was vaguely satisfying, the hero's anguished scream as he let her body drop to the ground more so. And yet, it was a fine wine poured out on hot coals. He made himself laugh, for Link's benefit.

It provoked the intended response. The youth lunged at him, a mad flurry of deadly steel, his usual tempered battle cries replaced by rough shouts and curses. But as quick and powerful as his strikes were, they were all predictable. Ganondorf was almost bored as he parried and sidestepped. Grief always made people sloppy. A weakness of less disciplined minds.

Link was quite fast, though. Ganondorf had to give up quite a bit of ground waiting for him to tire. No matter. Soon he would be done with his childish fit, and then he would put him out of his misery. All in all, a disappointing showing for the one who had touched the golden power. It was frustrating at times, being so far above others. Nothing excited him anymore.

His head throbbed, and he recalled that there was still half an arrow inside his skull. Power didn't heal his wounds so much as let him choose not to be affected by them. Fear was a choice. Mortality was a choice. Pain was… a triviality he could choose to ignore. He didn't need the Triforce for that. The harsh winds of war had long since stripped him of such self-indulgent frailty. He was the desert now, relentless shifting sands; he would not be quenched by their petty tears, he would swallow whole civilizations and leave no trace.

Against all odds, Link found a way around his defenses, driving the point of the sword through his armor and nicking his side. He was reckless, though, and Ganondorf made him pay for it with a deep cut down his leg. Link tried that duck-and-roll maneuver again, but he was ready and forced him back with a flourish of the pretty little sword.

He hated the thing, and the pompous sycophants who made it. The way they peered down their noses and whispered behind their hands, or cowered and gnashed their teeth and called him a demon, as if they were not the ones who brought their wars to his homeland and made his people pay the price, hoarded wealth and prosperity while they starved and burned in the sun, then invented false histories to justify it all. As if they were not a nation of lying, thieving, murdering, raping scum. They prated of divine deliverance while they chained him to a rock like an animal and ran him through. But the so-called holy weapon, like its makers, was too weak to finish the job. He had pulled it from his own body, and now it would serve his purposes. If the Hylians wanted a demon, he would give them one, and he would make them kneel in worship.

That brief fantasy distracted him so that he fell for Link's feint. The Master Sword bit into his shoulder, burning and slick, and he realized, belatedly, that neither that wound nor the one in his side would stop bleeding, no matter how much he willed then to. Interesting. Perhaps some of the tales were true.

Link was slowing down now, and clearly favoring his right leg. But as his frenzied rage subsided, a deadly determination took its place. Perhaps, Ganondorf thought with something almost like pride, he had taught his young enemy a lesson today. Now at last he understood what it was to be empty. _Can you stand, boy,_ he thought, _without all those quaint notions of honor and destiny to prop you up?_

He took another swing at Link, who tried to dodge, only to topple over backwards. He had tripped over Zelda's corpse. Ganondorf threw back his head and laughed at the look on his face when he realized it.

He was still laughing as Link gently smoothed Zelda's hair, then levered himself to his feet, gripping his sword in a trembling fist. A bestial growl rose in his throat, and a crimson aura flared around the blade. Then he charged, faster than he'd ever moved before. By the time Ganondorf moved to defend himself, he was caught in a hurricane of burning steel. Fire blinded him, pain forced its way in from every direction. Link vaulted into the air with sudden, impossible grace and came down on him like a falling star, glory and vengeance and despair.

Ganondorf screamed when the sword pierced his ribcage.

Link jerked the blade out of him, and he collapsed. He felt the prickling grass under his back, the warm rush of his own blood spilling over his stomach, the cold trickle of sweat down his temple, all dwarfed by bitter agony that would no longer be denied.

Link had fallen silent. Surely he must have some righteous soliloquy. Some parting taunt. Ganondorf almost wished he hadn't killed Zelda. She would have had something elegant to say. He forced his eyes open, tried to give Link one last defiant glare, but he wasn't looking. He seemed more dazed and exhausted than triumphant. Blood and dirt matted his hair. He hadn't even bothered to clean his blade yet. Well. If he was going to just _stand_ there…

Ganondorf's fingers twitched, closing around the glowing sword. Summoning the last of his strength, he lashed out, felt the soft resistance of rending flesh.

The Hero of Time made a strange, wet choking sound. Ruby red blossomed from his throat, staining the green tunic. The Master Sword slipped from his hand, stuck in the dirt with a soft thunk. As the world narrowed to a tunnel, the last thing Ganondorf saw was those clear blue eyes staring back at him, blue like a sapphire, blue like Hyrule's pure waters, blue like the endless desert sky. There was no fear or sorrow in them, on the contrary, Link looked relieved. One last paroxysm of hatred seized him—how _dare_ he be glad to die? For a moment the sign of the Triforce flickered on his hand. But it was not enough. It had never been enough.

The light faded. The hero fell. Ganondorf never heard his body hit the ground.


	2. Leap of faith

_**Content notices for this chapter:** Canon-typical religion. Heights, I guess?_

* * *

High above the silent field, a massive island of pale, weathered stone streamed through the wispy clouds. The towers, frescoed walls, and colorful domed rooftops of a magnificent city emerged from the mist, glittering beneath the cold starlight.

The Goddess strode down the broad avenue that ran from the heart of the city to the island's edge. Grandmother followed as closely as she could without treading on the skirts of her white silk gown. A crowd of the other Skyfolk trailed after them, colorful robes and fluttering shawls and nervous whispers.

There was no wall at the end of the street; the paving-stones ran right up to the edge. The people who once lived here hadn't feared falling. They rode on the backs of giant birds and went anywhere they wished in the Heavens or on the Surface, or so the stories said. Only the Goddess knew for sure, and she was not inclined to dwell on the past, though it was filled with tales of her heroic deeds. She never forced the people to worship her.

These days, not all of the Skyfolk believed. Some speculated that the Goddess was no goddess at all, merely a woman wise beyond her years—a benevolent teacher and leader, skilled in magic, but no more. How anyone could think so, after standing in her presence, was beyond Grandmother. She didn't radiate divine power in a grand and terrifying way, as the Golden Three or the dragon-gods of the mountains did. (Or so the stories said. Grandmother had never seen them, and did not wish to.) No, the Goddess had a more understated majesty. There was a stark, plain beauty in her features, the smooth-worn grace of one who has endured through trials and ages. Though her only ornamentation was a simple beaded circlet resting above her silver-blond bangs, she carried herself with a regal air to humble any queen.

The clouds below parted before her crystal blue gaze, at once gentle and severe. Grandmother looked up at her, her eyes asking the question none of them dared speak. The Goddess pursed her lips and shook her head. Low, mournful cries rippled through the crowd.

Behind them, the shadows stretched and deepened, pooling on the ground in a widening spiral. The air around them seemed to grow dim and heavy. Tendrils of black smoke rose from the spot, gradually taking on the shape of a gigantic, muscle-bound man. He was covered in reptilian scales from his wrists to his neck. In place of hair, a mane of fire wreathed his face.

Grandmother sucked in a sharp breath, grabbed the two nearest children—she didn't know whose they were, and it didn't matter—and dove into the nearest alley. They scrambled over a garden wall and huddled behind a sculpted hedge, shaking from head to foot.

"What's happening?" one of the children quavered. "Is it the Evil One?"

Grandmother hushed him with a finger to his lips, offering a few trite words of comfort, but her heart was heavy with dread. _To think he can already assume that form, even here in the holy city… Gods help us!_

* * *

In contrast to her panicked children, the Goddess paid no heed to the intruder, even when he sidled up behind her and bent his head to whisper in her ear. She glowed like a lantern against his darkness.

"Victory is mine, Hylia," he rasped in a voice like a roaring furnace.

"It is not finished," she replied coolly.

His lips parted in a sneer, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. "Your holy land, destroyed. Your chosen people, scattered. Everything you love is mine, and you will—"

"Nothing you have laid claim to is truly yours," she cut him off. "The earth remembers. The sky sees. And every mortal breath will yet repeat the song."

The fire spilled from his head to cloak his body, expanded into a roaring inferno. "Deny it like a foolish child, then, but _you will kneel before me!_ "

The goddess didn't flinch. "Rage all you wish, Demise. As you are now, you know you cannot touch me."

He moved as if to seize her arm, but his hand stopped inches from her skin. Her light glimmered through him, proving his form was not quite as solid as it seemed. The flames pouring off of him parted around her, repelled by some invisible barrier. They died down as quickly as they had risen, and he returned to smirking superiority.

"Already a third of your gods' power is in my chosen one's hands."

"Your chosen one," she repeated, in a carefully restrained monotone.

"He _is_ mine. You know it to be true, little goddess. Does it not make you envious? He is my creation, the greatest and best of them, and he has chosen me."

"I wonder."

"And that hero of yours? Does he serve you willingly, when you don't manipulate him? Ah, but I forgot. You've never let him live a life free of his burden."

Silence.

"Sooner or later, they will all come to me. I am the infinite, the great End." Demise's leering smile broadened. "The boy seems to hold some promise, after all. Perhaps I'll add him to my collection next."

This time Hylia's eyes betrayed a glint of ire. "He is unbreakable. _You_ know that." She jutted her chin toward the x-shaped scar on his forehead, noted with some satisfaction how his face tightened.

Demise leaned closer, and his voice dropped to a low growl, the sound of mountains cracking. "I can break anything."

Another long pause. Something almost like mischief flickered across her face. "Even curses?"

The demon folded his arms and regraded her with a stony scowl.

"Here is a prophecy for the king of demons." Hylia squared her shoulders and faced Demise at last. _«Out of the west comes the son of thunder, a mighty arm to free the imprisoned. With silver in his hand he stands triumphant on the mountain.»_

"Ha! Quote the Tarog Majori to _me_ , will you? No, I see what you're playing at. Ghirahim will not serve you again. You should learn to accept your failures with grace."

"Short-sighted as always. Wait and see." Her dainty mouth bit off the words. "We will show you power such as you cannot comprehend. And as for your so-called chosen one… he has all the proud ambition of Valken Orobas and all the wrath of Arkenhalm, but I laid them low and I will do the same to him. He will face the mirror of truth and judgment. We will cast him into darkness, into the depths of the abyss. In all this still he will not repent, but a day will come when he begs for mercy, and I will answer him with a sword. The history of light and shadow will be written in blood!"

His flames roared up again, filling the air with choking smoke and something far more toxic, slithering purple wisps of rarefied malice. This time she responded in kind, a thin, brilliant sphere of light repelling his onslaught. They regarded each other through the haze of crackling magic.

"Let them bleed, then," he snarled. Abruptly, his form twisted in on itself and vanished.

* * *

Grandmother pressed her back into the garden wall and tried to make her breaths shallow until the sound of the evil one's voice faded and the shadows returned to their natural state. After several more minutes passed with no sign of his return, she dared to peek over the top of the wall. The goddess was once again alone in the middle of the road. Slowly, still trembling from head to foot, Grandmother stood up. The rest of the Skyfolk began to emerge from hiding. She saw the children back to their parents, and did her best to calm the people, full of unanswerable questions as they were.

When she had finally convinced everyone to return to their homes, she looked back down the street. The Goddess still stood at the edge. She turned slightly as Grandmother approached, inviting her to stand at her side. For some time they looked out over the clouds in silence.

"Your Grace?" Grandmother whispered. Those brilliant blue eyes fell on her, darkened with infinite sadness, and she swallowed hard. "Is this truly the end of Hyrule?"

"That name, I fear, shall be lost to the winds of time," the Goddess replied.

As if on cue, a wintry gust picked up, ruffling Grandmother's kerchief. The Goddess closed her eyes, let it blow through her hair. Grandmother looked down, down through the clouds at the blighted land. Seeing her forlorn expression, the Goddess reached out and lifted her chin with a finger.

"Do you believe in me, Grandmother?"

No hesitation, even now. "Yes."

The Goddess smiled. "We will go down to the forest," she declared. "In the sacred grove where my temple once stood, we will seek a new beginning. When we are through, no one will remember that we or this world existed. But take heart, my child. Names may be lost, and histories too, but one thing remains."

Grandmother stared at her, not quite comprehending.

"Courage," said the Goddess. The moment the word left her lips, a thunderbolt pierced the clouds, brief and brilliant. A column of verdant light blossomed in its wake. Interlocking circles of magic unwound in its core, inscribed with glowing letters of a language older than time. The Goddess stepped off the ledge into the light, hovered there, turned and held out her hand.

It meant leaving everything she knew behind. It meant starting from nothing. Grandmother braced herself and leaped.

"And courage need not be remembered, for it is never forgotten."


	3. Bait and switch

**Content notes:** Violence (let's just assume that going forward), electrocution, minor character death, fantasy racism

* * *

In silence one finds wisdom, or so a wise man had once said. As a small child, Zelda had believed that one followed the other as surely as flowers followed the spring rains, that quiet composure was simply one of wisdom's many gifts. Her recent interactions with her father, however, made her wonder if the silence of the wise was a matter of economy rather than patience. Sooner or later they grew tired of being ignored.

But no, she told herself, cynicism was cheap. It took courage to keep speaking the truth until someone heard, and courage was what they needed in these times. The golden sign of Courage on the back of Link's hand was all he needed to make the king of Hyrule listen, after months of dismissing his own daughter.

It wasn't that she resented Link. _He_ had believed her from the start. He had apparently been through quite an ordeal on her behalf, too, waking up in a strange body after seven years of magical slumber to find the world gone to pieces. Zelda had to admit that her plan had backfired in the most disastrous way imaginable. Fortunately, Link said, the Sacred Realm had some kind of fail-safe mechanism, a divine alarm signal that went out from the temples across the land, summoning a task force of sages with powerful elemental magic. (He was reluctant to say who they had been. Though it pricked her curiosity, she only made him promise to tell her if the safety of the kingdom ever depended on it.) Two parts of the Triforce had fled from Ganondorf. One had gone to Link, which he now carried with him as proof, the other, he said, belonged to her. She wondered.

Her future self had worked hard to rectify her mistake, he said—he called it "their" mistake, but she would own it. They had all fought together to free their land from the clutches of the evil king. Afterward, she had used the ocarina to rewind time for Link, giving him a chance to reclaim his lost childhood years. Giving Hyrule a chance to avoid the nightmare she had created. There was a haunted look in his eyes when he told the story, and she wondered if he was leaving some parts out. But those were his secrets to keep.

Perhaps the wise kept silent because they feared their own hubris. She glanced at the back of her hand. Nothing.

Her fingers brushed the stained glass windows that lined the tower, an exquisite jigsaw puzzle of heraldry and myth casting its colors on her view of the world beyond. The western skies were clear, but in her mind's eye storm clouds loomed. She recalled the Gerudo king's piercing gaze, and shuddered.

Their plan was in motion. Once again, all she could do was wait.

* * *

Sedge tugged his hood down in a useless effort to shield his eyes from another swirling cloud of dust. No matter which way he turned, it seemed to find its way in, as if the wind itself sought to remind him that he didn't belong here.

Pausing in the shadow of a rocky overhang, he moistened his throat with a swig from his canteen. He chased it with a few drops of vivid indigo liquid from a vial clipped to his belt, then slathered more of it over his fins and face. A product of nearly-lost Sheikah herbal lore, the elixir was the only way a young Zora stood any chance of surviving the trip through Castor Wilds. Even so, he had accepted the mission without hesitation. It was a great honor to be so trusted by Princess Ruto.

Planting his hands on his knees, he levered himself to his feet and resumed the slow, laborious climb up the canyon. The trail, such as there was one, was covered in sand and loose gravel, and his feet slid out from under him more than once. Every breath burned. His eyes were sandpaper, and his skin was beginning to crack in spite of the elixir. At long last, he spotted a black and gold banner fluttering from a ledge overhead. The trail turned and made a slow zigzag up the hillside, but impatience propelled Sedge straight up the rocks instead. By the time he realized it was a mistake, it was too late to go back. He was cursing and shaking when he finally hauled his body over the ledge.

He found himself in the middle of a small portable town. A half-circle of tents nestled into a sandy depression about ten fathoms wide, their canvas walls dyed with a pattern that made them indistinguishable from boulders at a distance. Up close, however, each was an exquisite work of art, interlocking patterns of snakes and clouds and swirling calligraphy. A dozen or so wooden stools, a few brightly colored carpets, and a half-woven basket were strewn around a cast iron cook pot. The fire was out at the moment, but looked like it might have been burning a short time ago. Straight ahead was what seemed to be a supply tent. Through the open door he saw a mostly-empty weapon rack and several clay water jugs, each larger than him. He swallowed dust and thick saliva, dreaming of cool, clear water. Maybe they would give him a drink. Royal messengers were supposed to be treated courteously.

Moments later, he felt something sharp pressed to his back. Before he knew what was happening, seven armored warriors surrounded him, all women, brandishing a variety of spears and scimitars. He guessed they were some kind of honor guard, judging by their matching black and gold shawls. They moved with impossible grace, red hair dancing like flames in the wind. He grimaced, less in fear than mortification at his own carelessness. Where had they been hiding?

The guard who had him at spear-point yanked back his hood, then let out a surprised huff.

"It's a Zora!"

"A kid, no less," someone behind him half-laughed in disbelief.

"The phrase 'fish out of water' comes to mind."

Sedge bit his tongue and reminded himself that they probably didn't know "fish" was Zora slang for a coward or weakling. He _ate_ fish.

The shortest of the guards, who he guessed was not much older than him, bent down to look at him with wide, curious amber eyes. "What are you doing way out here?"

Sedge drew himself up, clearing his scratchy throat. "I serve the Zora royal family. We seek an audience with the elders."

Indignant snorts and muffled snickering. The woman behind him—probably their leader, since her shawl had a fancy turquoise fringe and the others were quick to get out of her way—came around to size him up with a cynical frown.

"So, the Wise Ones dragged us all out here to Mother-forsaken nowhere to meet a skinny _fish_ boy?" she hissed. Sedge was beginning to suspect she did know what it meant. She lifted his chin with the point of her spear. "I propose an alternate explanation. You're a troublemaker who wandered up from the valley and got lost. You saw our camp and thought you'd help yourself to some of our water. I saw you eyeing it. Fish boy."

"That's pretty harsh, Teake," said the young guard. "Even you don't know why we're here."

"Little sister, when I want your opinion I'll give it to you."

The shorter woman pressed her lips together and looked away. Sedge noted several of the others giving her dirty looks. Though he knew Gerudo women often addressed each other as "sister," a strong resemblance between the pair led him to think they were literal siblings.

Teake hadn't taken her eyes off him. "That does make me wonder, though. How are you not dead?"

Sedge nodded toward his belt, as much as he could with a blade at his throat. Another guard lifted his cloak to inspect the vials.

"Sheikah elixirs. Seven or eight of 'em!"

Teake's eyebrows shot up. "Those things easily go for a couple golds in the market." When Sedge tensed, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, relax. We're not going to steal them. What, you think the Gerudo are nothing but petty thieves?"

"Maybe _he's_ a thief."

"Wonder if he's got a bounty on his head."

"I am no such thing!" Sedge protested. "I come bearing an urgent message regarding a matter of interest to the Great Lord Ganondorf."

This time their laughter was unrestrained. Teake lowered her spear and shoved him toward the cliff. "Get out of here, kid."

Another woman winked at him. "We won't tell anybody we saw ya."

Sedge's fist clenched in anger. After coming all this way, risking life and limb, they were going to turn him away at the door. But what could he do? The guards' amusement had faded, and their stares were beginning to turn hostile. He should leave. He couldn't leave. Going home and telling Princess Ruto he'd failed would be worse than anything they could do to him. Probably.

"Bring him in."

The voice came from the largest tent, in the center of the village. Above the door was the black banner he'd spotted earlier. Exchanging wide-eyed glances, the guards formed a ring around Sedge and led him inside.

Flickering torches in serpentine brass stands illuminated the room; curiously, their flame produced no smoke. A plush red carpet covered most of the floor. At the far end, a pair of ancient women sat cross-legged on silk cushions, hands tucked into the long sleeves of their black and white robes. They were mirror images of one another, right down to the warts on their noses. One wore a massive red jewel on her forehead, the other, blue.

Sedge started to kneel, though apparently not fast enough, because Teake gripped his shoulder and forced him down. The blue sorceress dismissed the guards with a gesture.

"You've come a long way, young one," she said in a voice like creaking bones. "I hope you had a pleasant journey."

"Heh. Of course he didn't," her twin scoffed. She bent forward, leathery lips parting in an unsettling grin. "You know, boy, there would be plenty of water here for you, if not for the Hylians."

"He's too young to know anything about that," said the first with a dismissive wave. "Oh, but how rude of us. We ought to introduce ourselves, Koume."

"Quite right, Kotake."

The pair looked at each other and shrugged.

"Well now, I suppose we've done it."

Sedge tried not to quiver. Koume and Kotake, the legendary "Twinrova." Ganondorf's mothers. Rarely seen but universally feared, the pair were the subject of more rumors than could possibly be true. He doubted that they were really four hundred years old, or that they could read a person's mind just by looking at them, or that they were actually ravishing beauties who disguised themselves as crones. But on one point all the rumors agreed: they were deadly when crossed. Their beady eyes fixed on Sedge. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to rise, decided not to chance it.

"Speak, child," Koume barked.

Swallowing the last shred of his pride, he lowered his head. "I am Seggin, a messenger of the Zora royal family. I come in the name of Princess Ruto Do Bon, seeking to parley with the great Ganondorf, lord of the Gerudo."

Kotake's brow furrowed in an almost-convincing imitation of concern. "Parley? Is there some trouble?"

"We are asking for your protection. About three months ago, shortly after Lord Ganondorf visited Zora's Domain, the guardian deity of our fountain fell gravely ill. The cause was discovered to be a parasite. This surprised us, as Lord Jabu-Jabu normally has remarkable immunity—indeed, his presence helps to purify the water." Sedge took a deep breath and dared to meet their eyes for the briefest moment, the dance of deception's opening steps. "Further investigation revealed something far more troubling. The creature had been enhanced with dark magic. Someone did this intentionally."

Koume blew a sharp breath out her nose. "Are you suggesting that our king had something to do with your guardian's unfortunate affliction?"

"Far be it from me to insinuate such a thing," Sedge replied in a rush. "But… it has become clear to our princess that the Hylian king cannot or will not protect us. Her father is too proud to ask for help, but she is willing to do what he will not to save our people. She requests Lord Ganondorf's aid in ensuring that such a thing never happens again."

"And what might she have to offer in return?"

They all knew there was only one acceptable answer. To his credit, Sedge kept his voice even. "The Spiritual Stone of Water."

Their faces split open like overripe melons. Kotake crooked a finger, and suddenly the floor was a sheet of ice. In the same moment a gust of frosty wind hit him in the back, launching him toward the witches. They moved faster than he'd imagined they could, lifting his cloak, checking his sleeves and belt pouch.

"Where is it?"

"Come now, let's see!"

Koume tried to peek under the fins on his head. He pulled away, rigid with indignation.

"You will forgive us, I hope, for not sending the Sapphire with a lone messenger on such a treacherous journey, without knowing how our offer would be received." Princess Zelda had given him that line, worded to avoid outright accusations. His own princess would have been… a bit more direct.

"I see." Kotake settled back into her seat, and after casting a long glare at Sedge, so did her twin.

They said no more for a while, only stroked their chins and held a silent conversation with their eyes. The low crackle of the torches was suddenly deafening. He wondered if they would ask him why the Zora, faithful servants of the king of Hyrule, would go behind his back to make a bargain with another monarch—as they doubtless were, asking to meet in an inhospitable place far out of reach of the gossip stone network. To this he would reply that the Zora did not need the Hylians' permission to protect themselves. He wondered if they would ask him to speculate on the reason Ganondorf wanted the stone. Here he would feign ignorance, saying only that the king of the Gerudo must be a fancier of ancient relics and that, although it would pain them to part with the Zora queens' traditional "engagement ring," it was a small price to pay for their people's safety; it was, after all, only a pretty bauble. (And if one of them dared to joke that Ganondorf might consider keeping that tradition alive, he would try his hardest not to punch them in the face.)

But they asked none of these things. After letting him sweat for several minutes, Koume cleared her throat.

"Your terms?"

Sedge produced a folded sheet of parchment, offering it to them with both hands. "If the great Ganondorf finds our offer acceptable, we ask that he meet us at this location on the fourth day after the new Forest Moon."

Koume took the map but didn't unfold it. "Very well. He will send an envoy."

"Begging your pardon, excellencies. In regard for how unique and valuable the Sapphire is to us, we would much prefer to put it in his hands ourselves."

Kotake's nose wrinkled. "Our king has a kingdom to rule. You cannot expect him to run petty errands."

 _You've done well enough without him these past seven months_ , thought Sedge, but he only replied, "These are our terms."

Koume stared him down with a sour pout. She wouldn't get him to budge on this point and she knew it. It was only out of spite that she pretended to reconsider. At length she said, "Your princess will bring the stone herself."

Sedge's mouth twitched slightly. The Hylians had warned him against agreeing to anything that would visibly involve the Zora royalty, but Princess Ruto herself had told him to concede the point if necessary to make the deal. _I'm not afraid of Ganondorf,_ she'd said. _In fact, I'd kind of like to be there to see the look on his face._

When Koume didn't back down, he bowed low again. "As you wish."

She inspected the map, exchanged a brisk nod with her twin, then snapped her fingers. It dissolved in a flash of fire.

"Done."

* * *

Koume watched the Zora boy disappear down the winding trail with a small frown. They had filled his canteens and replaced his cloak with a better one, and for this his gratitude was clearly genuine. Bani, eager to prove herself and more eager still to ask a million invasive questions about the Zora and their land to the east, had offered to escort him back down the canyon. Koume suspected that Teake had agreed to it mostly to be rid of her little sister for a while.

"Forest Moon," she muttered. "Ruled by Farore and Nayru. An inauspicious day for the daughters of sand and fire."

Beside her, Kotake pursed her lips. "You know what this means? That wizard was telling the truth."

"Truth," said Koume, "can be bent into all sorts of useful shapes."

They were silent for a long time, watching the setting sun. Bani returned, practically skipping.

"Get some rest, daughter," Kotake told her. "We leave at dawn."

After the young woman disappeared into her tent, the sorceresses looked at each other.

"I think we should leave tonight," said Koume.

Kotake frowned, hesitating. "They've all been loyal sisters. Is this really—"

"Now is not the time for weakness! You want our son to die? We have to, Kotake. It's _His will._ "

"I know. I know..." Kotake closed her eyes, let out a long, rough breath. Opened them again. "There's no other way."

She stirred the dust with one long fingernail. Frost sprouted from the ground at her touch, raced along the ground between the tents and up the canyon walls, crept between the rocks. The groaning and cracking of boulders echoed through the valley. Koume heard a few puzzled murmurs from inside the tents, and smiled grimly. Poor souls. At least it would be quick. She stifled the tiny spark of pity that sprang up. This was how it had to be. There was no other way.

A massive chunk broke loose from the cliff, crushing the tents. If the guards screamed, she didn't hear them. More rocks followed in a deafening shower, burying the whole village until there was no sign this place had ever been inhabited. And Koume laughed, a shrill, raucous laugh that held no joy.

Before the dust settled, Twinrova jumped onto their brooms and sped off into the moonlit sky without looking back.

* * *

The soft blue light of the Zora's Sapphire glistened on the dewy grass of the clearing. Ruto curled her toes, refusing to shiver in spite of the cold wind. (It was the wind, of course. She wasn't nervous at all.) She cupped her hands around the stone and mouthed a promise to her people, to herself. _I won't mess this up._ The river at her back whispered a soothing song. If she squinted, she could make out a line of dark shapes descending from the hills. The Gerudo were allowing themselves to be seen. Maybe that was a good sign.

Two senior knights flanked her, and Sedge stood a few paces behind. He had insisted on being there, and she would hardly deny him after the risk he'd taken on her behalf. She resisted the impulse to glance back at the line of rushes where Link and the Hylians were waiting. Out of all of them, it was the boy in green who made her feel safe.

As safe as one could feel, anyway, when they were face to face with Ganondorf.

To her surprise, he dismounted and crossed the meadow on foot, mud squelching beneath his massive boots. Rather than his usual short cape he wore a full cloak, and a red scarf wound around the lower half of his face. He must be cold too.

His entourage drew to a halt. The sun had yet to emerge from behind the mountains; the lights of Castle Town twinkled on the eastern horizon. His face was still hidden, but Ruto's imagination painted a wicked leer behind the scarlet cloth. She clutched the stone tighter. A woman in long white robes, presumably his herald, stepped forward, and one of the Zora knights went out to meet her. A labored exchange of formal greetings followed, which Ruto barely heard.

The herald cleared her throat. "The great Ganondorf will now receive the Zora's tribute."

Steeling herself, Ruto walked toward him, cradling the Sapphire in her palms. Ten paces, twenty. No more. His displeasure was plain—he must feel each step away from the desert cliffs as keenly as she felt each one from the water—but he came forward to meet her. How much did he suspect? She heard the creak of his jet-black leather armor, the low rattle of Sedge and the knights gripping their weapons tighter. Then she saw herself reflected in his golden eyes, and heard only the thud of her own heart. He reached for the stone.

"Hyaaah!"

Link came flying out of nowhere and hit Ganondorf in the knees, making him stumble. Before he could recover, one of the Zora knights knocked his feet out from under him with a sweeping kick. They pinned his head to the ground between their crossed spears. The herald charged, scimitar drawn. There was a grunt, then the loud clang-clang of blades meeting. Her weapon went flying across the grass. She had time to blink once before Link struck her in the back of the head, knocking her unconscious. At the same moment, a hail of arrows loosed from the bushes forced the rest of the Gerudo soldiers back. With a shout that Ruto thought surprisingly high-pitched, Ganondorf seized a pole in each hand and flipped the knights head over heels. One managed to keep hold of her weapon. The other went sprawling face-down. Ganondorf caught the spear and moved to impale him with it, but the distraction had bought the Hylian soldiers enough time to rush in from their hiding place, cutting between the Gerudo and their king.

As their forces collided, Sedge caught Ruto by the arm and led her back toward the safety of the river. Looking back over her shoulder, she was alarmed to see that a trio of Gerudo soldiers had Link surrounded. But her worries were premature; moments later a bubble of Din's Fire knocked them back.

Ganondorf, meanwhile, had turned the spear on the Hylians, whirling and jabbing too fast for her to follow. A gray-bearded man thought he saw an opening and made a bold charge. Ganondorf stabbed him in the side. Anguished cries went up among the Hylian troops as the fallen man—their leader, she realized—tumbled down the hill. The rest of the squad collapsed like an anemone retreating into the rocks. Ruto tried to turn back, with the irrational thought that she could help somehow, but Sedge pulled her harder toward the water.

" _Princess_ ," he said urgently. She understood, and followed.

The Hylians outnumbered the Gerudo three to one. Ganondorf turned, shouting something to the leader of his soldiers in their language. She looked taken aback. He repeated the order, flinging his arm in the general direction of the hills. After a moment's hesitation, she passed the command to her women, who seemed as astonished as she did—but not half as much as Ruto, when they all mounted their horses and retreated.

The Zora knights charged back into the fray, fins flashing silver, swift and graceful as dancers. But grace did not win battles. Ganondorf's stolen weapon broke against one of the soldiers' shields. He tossed it aside and pounded his fist into the ground with a mighty bellow. The earth buckled, sending weapons, shields, and people flying in every direction. He whipped out a pair of curved swords and charged, batting down the handful that managed to stand back up like annoying insects. He was coming straight for Ruto. Clutching the stone to her chest, she plunged into the river.

At first, her only thought was to put as much distance as possible between them. She turned into the current, praying he wasn't a strong swimmer. An ominous vibration made her glance back, the creak of a bow, a crackle and hiss. Through the rippling veil above she caught a pulsing yellow light.

 _Shock arrow._

Panic gripped she could react, Sedge went shooting past her. He leaped out of the water with arms spread wide.

"No!" she screamed, lunging after him. From above she heard the impact, then the awful jittering sound. When she broke the surface he was lying on the bank, the arrow embedded in his shoulder, sparks crawling over him like a hundred glowing eels. She scrambled through mud and rocks, heedless of the danger.

Ganondorf huffed in annoyance and started to draw again, but Link threw himself between them and the thief lord. More shouts, and the metallic ring of swords meeting. Ruto cradled Sedge's head to her chest, shaking with terror and grief. She knew on some level that her soldiers were sworn to protect her, but this… he had used his body as a shield.

"Wake up. Come on, please wake up," she pleaded, though she knew he was dead. He had to be. She grabbed him under the arms and dragged him away from the fight, casting one wild-eyed glance back at Link. Her foot slipped. They tumbled into the sand.

To her amazement, Sedge moaned and opened one eye. For a second she could only gape at him.

"Are you all right… Princess?"

Ruto sucked in a deep breath. "You idiot!"

There was no time to properly chastise him, though, with her other friend still locked in a deadly battle. Link was holding his own, fending off his opponent's attacks with a Hylian shield. (It looked to have been modified, but she was still amazed he could lift it.) Ganondorf bore down on him in a cyclone of rage, but he couldn't land a blow on Link—ten year old, never formally trained, raised-in-the-woods Link. Maybe Zelda wasn't crazy to think he was some kind of chosen one.

Link deflected one blade, did a flip to avoid the other, and landed on Ganondorf's arm. Ganondorf tried to shake him off, but Link clawed his way up onto his shoulders with all the ungainly agility of a monkey and put him in a choke-hold. Ganondorf flailed for a few seconds, but finally pried the boy off and slammed him into the ground. Ruto cringed, nails digging into her hands.

A shadow hissed between the two combatants. The blades of Ganondorf's swords fell off, severed inches from the hilt.

Ruto let out a shuddering sigh. "About time, Impa."

After a moment of confusion, Ganondorf threw his now-useless weapons aside and tried to ready another spell, but it was too late. Impa struck him in the gut, kicked him from behind so that he fell onto his knees, and followed with a vicious elbow between his shoulderblades. Then Link's sword was at his neck, and Impa was clapping silencer cuffs around his wrists, and it was over.

After a minute or so, Sedge managed to get to his feet. Link was staring intently at their captive, a deepening frown on his face. After a moment he said something to Impa that she didn't catch. The handful of soldiers who could stand gathered around. In the quiet after the battle, she could hear trilling frogs and the low moans of the wounded. At least that meant some of them were still alive.

 _One death is too many,_ she thought as Impa unwound the cloth from Ganondorf's face. Her anger faltered, swept away by dumb shock.

It wasn't Ganondorf.

The woman's long red hair spilled over her face as she looked up at them. She was panting, drenched with sweat and covered in grime, none of which did anything to dampen the blazing hatred in her eyes.

"He was right," she said, voice rough with bitterness. "Of course he was right."

"Who are you?" Impa demanded.

The woman shot to her feet, somehow managing to look imposing in spite of having her hands tied behind her back. "I am Parapa! Remember that name, you treacherous dogs! My king will not let this go unpunished!"

* * *

Impa and the vice-commander took about half the troops and marched their prisoner back to Castle Town. The rest stayed to tend to their injured comrades. Sedge patched up his own wound and then hovered around trying to help, ignoring Ruto's scolding. She could pull rank and command him to lie down. But no, she had a better idea.

"Sedge, do we have any Mermaid's Whiskers?"

"The plant?"

"Yes. It's excellent for binding wounds. Healers swear by it. Since you are determined to ignore my advice to rest, make yourself useful and go get some."

He made a gallant bow, as if she'd just given him command of a legion instead of sending him off to hunt river weeds. "Of course."

"And don't go splashing around like a fool! It's very delicate."

"While you're down there, think you could catch us some fish for dinner?" added Link, having overheard their exchange. "We don't have any poles though… can you manage?"

"We Zora catch fish with our bare hands all the time," Sedge informed him, puffing up a little.

 _Good one,_ thought Ruto. _That'll make him sit still._

Sedge ambled down to the water, and Link went back to digging in his pack for red potions. (She wondered for the umpteenth time how he could even move, carrying all that stuff.)

"Thanks."

"I'm glad he's all right."

"He's lucky." Ruto shot an exasperated look toward the river.

Link paused in his rummaging. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "For all of this. But don't worry. I won't rest until we catch Ganondorf." Maybe it was the early dawn shadows playing tricks, but in that moment he seemed much older.

"Stop that," she ordered, crossing her arms. He blinked, flabbergasted. "You can't take the blame for everything. It was Zelda's idea, anyway."

His reply was quick and sharp, a reflex. "Zelda didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, neither did you, or anybody, so quit acting like a martyr!"

He was quiet for a minute, biting the inside of his cheek. In spite of everything, it was slightly adorable.

"You're right. Sorry," he mumbled.

"Stop apologizing. Now give me those," she said, taking the potions from his hands, "because I've got another job for you. We need to get back to the city, and some of us won't be able to walk. You're fast, right? I know you are so don't try to be modest. Run on down to Groslan Ford and see if one of the farmers has a cart we can borrow."

He saluted and sprang into action, all youthful eagerness again. He and Sedge were alike that way, she realized, watching the two wave at each other as Link passed on his way down the road. Restless until they had a mission.

"Heroes," she muttered. "They're so high maintenance."

* * *

Early the next afternoon they led Parapa into the throne room, wrists and ankles bound, flanked by knights in front and behind. Four neat columns of elite royal guards surrounded them, with a pair of mage-wardens bringing up the rear. More stood guard at every exit. Crossbowmen lined the balconies above. To the casual observer it might seem over the top, but Link was glad they weren't taking any chances.

Without the bulk of her borrowed armor, Parapa was slender, willowy even—but Link of all people knew better than to equate size with strength. He thought about her tossing the Zora knights aside like flour sacks, the whirling blur of her spear holding off a full squad of their soldiers… suddenly he wondered if their security was tight enough. Luckily, the more powerful magic she had unleashed against them came from single-use talismans. Unless she managed to sneak one past Impa, which was about as likely as a cold day in Goron City, the enchanted shackles would easily suppress any spell she attempted on her own.

(Ganondorf with the Triforce of Power would have shredded them like wet paper. But that would never happen now.)

The gallery to the left of the throne was full of long-eared old men in fancy robes. Link could name a handful: Grand Marshal Owlan, fair-haired and severe, Chancellor Potho, short and bespectacled with more mustache than hair, Minister Herald Chirila in his highly fashionable coat. Judging by the looks they gave Parapa, they were already planning her execution. Zelda sat at her father's right hand, Impa hovering over her like a mother eagle guarding her chick.

The chancellor struck the floor with a wooden staff, sending a ringing echo through the chamber. "Parapa of the Mandrag Gerudo," he intoned, warbling and nasally. "You stand accused of high treason and conspiracy. Have you anything to say in your defense?"

"I will not give you the satisfaction of begging for mercy." Parapa's voice was honeyed venom. "My people know exactly how much compassion you have for us."

One of the knights clamped down on her shoulder. "You'll show respect in the presence of our king, you desert witch!"

Parapa's lip curled. "If only I were a witch, I'd teach _you_ some respect."

He raised his gauntlet to strike her, and her face tightened in a way Link knew well, stoic pride bracing to stifle any outward sign of pain. But the king lifted a hand, halting the soldier in his tracks. As always he kept an air of stately dignity; only a deepening crease in his forehead betrayed his agitation. Across the room, Zelda let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Assemble a tribunal," said the king, looking at Parapa but addressing his councilors. "We will conduct her trial in three weeks' time. Until then, find out exactly how much she knew about that stone and her wayward lord's plan. If she will cooperate with us in locating him, perhaps we shall show her some leniency."

"Never," Parapa spat.

He seemed about to speak, changed his mind and set his jaw. "Take her away."

Parapa did not struggle or protest, only cast a burning glance back at him as they led her off to the dungeons.

The king turned to Owlan with a stiff nod. "I want the order given to every knight in Hyrule. Hunt Ganondorf down, and bring him to justice."

From across the room, Zelda met Link's eyes with a look of gratitude and somber satisfaction. In spite of this latest hitch in their plans, she believed they were on the right path this time. He had made a difference.

Sometimes she looked at him like he was the genius, as if it were intuition and not bitter experience that had shown him the consequences of opening the Sacred Realm. She would say that didn't matter, that experience was after all a better teacher. She had not lived through it.

But he knew at this moment there was another Zelda on the other side of time clinging to Impa's back as their horse careened out of Castle Town, turning as she passed, eyes locking with his for a moment and a lifetime. The ocarina splashing into the river. All of her faith and the destiny of the world in his hands. How could he have thought, as a child, that he was ready for such a responsibility? Zelda talked of her foolish pride, but she wasn't the one who had tried to lift the sword. Then at the end of it all she took it back from him, the burden and the blame and the pride and the future, did all she could to let him start over while she remained, alone in her shattered kingdom. He carried the scars of their mistake. Zelda carried the world.

The Zelda before him now, still bright and full of faith, didn't understand the gift she had been given, or what it had cost. And she never would.

He would never tell her.


	4. Damage control

**Content notes:** Mentions of blood, violence, and death penalties, referenced racism/colonialism

Made small but significant edits to chapters 2 and 3 to add a little lore and adjust Koume and Kotake's characterization. They're pretty awful but I don't see them as unfeeling monsters acting out of sheer malice.

* * *

Nabooru enjoyed market days in Castle Town: the cheerful din of lutes and tambourines, the constant parade of street performers, the smells of fresh-steamed rice and smoked meats and spices, the housewives in their colorful printed skirts, the dogs and children weaving underfoot, the general festive air that made strangers smile at each other as they passed. It was just the right kind of crowded for a lone wolf who sometimes wanted to be around other people without having to engage in idle chatter. On a usual visit she might try to haggle with Vasu over some new earrings, stop for dinner at her favorite back-alley hole in the wall, maybe shoot a few rounds of Bombchu bowling… Never mind Hyrule's stuffy weather and stuffier aristocracy; the ordinary folk of this city affirmed her belief that wherever you went in the world, most people were mostly good, most of the time.

Today, though, it was all lost on her. The crowd saw her stormy frown and gave her entourage a wide berth as they guided their horses through the fountain plaza.

It had been a week and a day since Parapa's companions staggered into the fortress, horses and riders half-dead from exhaustion. Beiru and Liana wanted to throw them all into the lockup for their cowardice, but Nabooru made them calm down long enough to hear the women's story. They were from the western clans—Ganondorf's home territory—and they had apparently tried to bully the Zora into handing over some mystical rock the king wanted. Behind her back. It didn't surprise her as much as it should have. If not for Parapa's predicament, she might have felt smug at how it had blown up in their faces.

It galled her more that the king of Hyrule didn't feel it necessary to tell her that he was holding one of her sisters prisoner.

As they approached the gate on the road to the castle, she could see the guards' hackles rise, and steeled herself for the rounds of tedious questioning and let-me-ask-my-superiors that were sure to follow. As if they couldn't figure out why she was here. Idiots, all of them.

At first, she mistook the dark shape reclining against the wall of the gatehouse for an unusually pretty gargoyle. She jumped when it peeled off the wall. A woman about her own age, all hard lines and severity, from the slant of her brows to the midnight blue armor to the stiff bundle of white hair at the back of her neck. Ruby eyes caught Nabooru's and held her gaze with an intensity that made her shiver.

The shadow folk were a rare sight in Hyrule these days. Most of them had retreated into the mountains after the last war. Probably haunted by what they had done in the name of peace. There was only one she knew of who lived in the castle. With a gesture from the woman, the iron bars parted before them. This must be Impa, Princess Zelda's personal attendant.

"Exalted Nabooru," she said with a formal bow. "Welcome to Hyrule Castle."

Nabooru wasted no words. "I'm here for Parapa."

"I see. That's a complicated matter," said Impa, ushering the last of their horses in and re-locking the gates herself. Every word she spoke was perfectly enunciated, every motion swift and precise. Like some kind of automaton.

Sudden fear gripped Nabooru's heart. Was Parapa alive? Had they shipped her off to Eldin to—

"She has not been harmed."

Nabooru let out a slow breath. "Forgive my manners. It's been a long trip." She paused, mouth twisting as if she'd bitten a lemon, and made herself say, "We humbly request an audience with the Chancellery in order to resolve this, ah, misunderstanding between our people."

Much as she hated to admit it, Ganondorf would probably have been better at this part. Flattery, courtly manners, and silent seething were more his style; she preferred to speak plainly, whoever it might offend. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck. _Mother's mercy, this place is humid._ She put on her most charming smile.

Impa, however, seemed to have no use for either flattery or charm. "We have much to discuss. If you'll accompany me to the castle, I will have rooms prepared for you and your companions."

Nabooru briefly weighed the option of finding an inn in town and spending half a month's earnings on mediocre food and a cramped room, surrounded by other cramped rooms full of strange sweaty men. She nudged her horse forward.

As they rounded the bend approaching the drawbridge, she caught a flicker of movement across the moat. Brown boots, green shirt, disappearing into a tiny hole. If Impa noticed, she didn't react. For some reason Nabooru thought back to the tale she'd heard from Ryma, the herald they'd dragged unconscious from the battlefield, that the Hylians had a "little green devil child" who fought with the strength of ten grown women. At the time she had dismissed it as fancy, perhaps a side effect of her head injury.

She had much bigger worries than vermin in the bushes, though, so she ignored the odd pricking down her spine. It was only much later that she recognized the feeling as deja vu.

* * *

When Link entered the courtyard, Princess Zelda was sitting on the steps by the window, trying to coax a butterfly to land on her finger. She brightened when she saw him and skipped across the new path through the flower bed.

Last month he'd walked in to find her spreading mulch and raking gravel. She told him it was a whim. It was Impa who explained that _someone_ trampled her pansies every time he came to visit, and apparently garden flowers died if you stepped on them.

He had tried to apologize, but she would hear none of it. _Doesn't it look nicer this way?_

She giggled softly at the sight of his wet tunic. "Did you swim through the moat again?"

"Yeah."

"You can use the front door, you know."

He shrugged. "It's kind of a game between me and the guards now. Sergeant Viscen's getting wise to my tricks. I gave him the slip this time, though."

(It had been a lot easier when Navi was there to help him peek around corners.)

"Well. If you are going to appear before me in such a state, I shall not stand on ceremony any longer." With that, Zelda flopped down on the grass. Link hesitated only a split second before he joined her, leaning back on his hands and closing his eyes. The sun felt good on his face. Bees hummed in the garden, and a bird's warbling drifted in on the wind.

"Here, let me have your boots."

At first he wasn't sure he'd heard right. He pointed at his damp, grimy toes with a questioning look.

"If you don't mind. I want to try my elemental magic," she explained.

"As her highness wishes," he said, undoing his buckles. "How are your lessons going?"

"Slowly. Father won't let me practice as much as I'd like, because he's afraid I'll strain myself. And Impa's always worried that I'll start a fire in the castle." She rested her chin on her hand, pouting. "It was _one_ time, and a very small one at that!"

He stifled a laugh, and hoped he wouldn't be walking home barefoot. She picked up his boot, turning it over like a puzzle. They were probably breaking about a dozen rules of royal etiquette. When they were older and no longer had these moments where no one was watching, they would have to start pretending to care. But they had a few years yet.

"Elemental magic can be understood in terms of four principles: solidity, flow, heat, and movement," Zelda said. When her mind was occupied, she would spout a continuous stream of random information to anyone who would listen. He enjoyed listening to her, though he would never remember it all. "These correspond to the four great elements of Earth, Water, Fire, and… oh!"

"What's wrong?"

"It's like threading a needle. I can sense the energies, but I can't quite grasp them."

"You'll get it," he said, sure as he would say the sun rose in the east or Farosday followed Nelsday. "What about the elements?"

"Oh yes, the fourth is Wind. That one is of particular interest to the royal family. You see, many years ago Hyrule was visited by a tribe of tiny people called… Aha! There we are." A faint blue light shimmered around her hands. "The obvious solution would be to use heat to encourage evaporation, but in fact it's much more effective, and safer, to apply the principle of 'flow' to draw the water out directly."

Her face puckered in concentration. Before his eyes, droplets beaded up and ran off the leather into her cupped hand. He watched, mesmerized, as she lifted the silvery bubble into the air. Their distorted reflections stared back at them. He poked it lightly, grinned at the way their faces wobbled.

"We look funny," she laughed.

He was about to try again when her breath hitched. The bubble popped, splattering in the grass. She was blinking unevenly, and a thin sheen of sweat had formed on her brow.

"Hey, are you all right?"

She swayed. Alarmed, he reached out to catch her in case she fainted, but she steadied herself. "I'm fine! It shouldn't be this difficult… Don't tell me you're going start worrying, too."

"I might." For once, he found himself agreeing with her father. "Please don't overdo it."

She sobered. Her gaze drifted across the yard to the throne room window. "Storms and darkness. I had those dreams over and over… for years… But still I wasn't prepared." She set her jaw, determination so sharp that it almost looked harsh. "I will not watch that man set the Loftwing Crown on his head."

His brow furrowed. That was why she wanted to study magic?

"We have time," he assured her, and forced down the swell of vague, unreasoning bitterness. What they had was borrowed time, stolen time. (It wasn't her fault.)

"I hope so."

Those deep blue eyes fixed on him, and for a moment he felt, irrationally, that she must know every one of his thoughts. One question and he would crack. He would tell her not to worry about the crown, that Ganondorf had never bothered to crown himself when he turned Castle Town into a scorched wasteland. He would tell her about the nightmares in the temples, the Gorons in cages waiting to become dragon food, the Zora frozen in ice, Kakariko in flames, the Gerudo closed off and wary in their fortress as women continued to vanish in the night, and Saria's brave, sad smile as she confessed she hadn't wanted to be a sage…

"Link?" Zelda was waving a hand in front of his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lied. She still looked worried, but didn't press him.

After a few seconds she shook herself, like a bird throwing off raindrops. "You're right. We should focus on what we can do now. Impa has questioned Parapa, but I'm sorry to say we're no closer to finding Ganondorf. She claims the last time she met him face to face was almost a year ago. Her orders came by messenger guay. Impa put three different truth-stones in her hands and none of them broke."

He frowned. "It's possible to fool those things, isn't it?"

"Technically yes, but…" He knew as well as she did that it was wishful thinking. He tried to keep his face neutral, though his heart was sinking. They were back where they started. Again.

"I'm not surprised. She must be one of his most trusted followers to be given such a mission, but he had no reason to let her know where he was, at least until after she had the Sapphire."

 _Liars don't trust other people as a rule,_ Link thought with a hint of a scowl. Suddenly restless, he got up and tugged his boots on. They were a little too small lately. He grunted, wobbling on one foot. Zelda steadied him with a light hand on his shoulder, which probably broke another dozen rules.

"Thanks," he said, a little red-faced when he finally managed to wedge his toes in. He coughed. "Do you think she knew what it was? The Sapphire, I mean."

"Only that it contained some magical power. She may not be aware of Ganondorf's more dangerous ambitions or… his other crimes." She paused for a beat, and he could see the sympathy in her eyes, though she tried to smooth it over. He had only mentioned the Great Deku Tree to her once. She knew by now that he didn't like to be pitied. "Impa says there are many in the desert who doubt the existence of the Triforce," she went on quickly. "They think it's a myth we invented to prove our land is favored by the gods."

Link had to wonder if it wouldn't be better to let the thing be lost forever.

They started a slow, aimless lap around the courtyard. The high gray walls suddenly felt like a prison, and he wished they could go for a stroll in the woods instead. At least it was better than sitting still.

"To be honest," she said in a halting voice, "I'm not sure we should be detaining her at all."

His mouth dropped open. Where was all her resolve from a few minutes ago? "She's Ganondorf's loyal follower."

Zelda pursed her lips. "She's also the kind of person who, faced with an unwinnable battle, ordered her soldiers to retreat while she fought alone to buy them time to escape. Good and evil aren't always straightforward."

"I'm aware." He could hear a slight edge in his own voice, almost as if they were having an argument.

She turned aside, anguish written on her face. He traced the outline of another woman in her profile, looking down at their fallen nemesis in the broken tower room, and whatever budding anger he'd felt toward her withered. _Ganondorf… pitiful man…_ Even then Zelda was compassionate. He would not fault her for it now.

But he would never share the sentiment. His left hand twitched, aching for a sword. He yanked off his hat (empty) and pretended to wring it out, though it was mostly dry.

Zelda fiddled with the claw-like beads on her necklace. "I know you're trying to protect everyone, but if she doesn't know anything, all we're doing is using her as a hostage."

"She killed a man."

"In self-defense. Because of my plan." She shuddered, fingertips pressed to her temples. "It's all my fault again."

"No," he said sharply, really angry now, but not at her. "There's only one person to blame for all this." Her arms dropped to her sides, eyebrows rising until they vanished beneath her wimple. As her friend he might get away with a little less formality, but commoners didn't take that tone with princesses. Sometimes he forgot.

In the next moment she reached out and clasped his hand. Her lashes drew together, and she lowered her head until it was nearly resting on his shoulder. "I'm afraid, Link," she whispered.

Etiquette be damned. He folded his other hand over hers, golden triangles glinting in the sun, stood as tall as he could, tried to summon the legendary Hero of Time into this tiny body. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

"It's not me who will suffer." She swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. "This is how wars begin. I just learned that my father didn't even tell the Gerudo we'd captured Parapa. I don't know if he assumed her companions would relay the news, or if he planned to try and sentence her without a word to them… Their second-in-command arrived this morning. She must be livid."

Link did a double take. "Lady Nabooru's here?"

"You know her?"

"I, um, know of her."

He thought he saw a hint of suspicion in her eyes, but her voice revealed nothing. "Would you like to meet her? I could arrange it."

He told himself it wouldn't be the same. She wouldn't remember any more than the others. Still, his heart leaped at the thought of so many of his old friends gathered here in the castle, almost as if it were fate. Maybe he could somehow get Ruto and Impa to join them, and…

He reeled in the daydream. Fate had caused them all enough trouble already. "You don't think she'd be too busy?"

"Link, you're too modest. Actually, if she could speak with the key witness against Ganondorf, it might help ease any doubts she has about our motives."

When Zelda had that look on her face, there was no changing her mind. He nodded slowly. "If you think it'll help."

* * *

In the ground at the center of the highest rock at Gerudo Mesa was a perfect circle of black glass. Hard as steel and polished mirror-bright, so perfectly flush that not a grain of sand slipped into the seam, it might tempt the rare adventurer who wandered to these parts to waste a bomb or two, but it was not so remarkable that they would not eventually convince themselves it was just a natural phenomenon.

Kotake and her sister turned a wide circle, scanning the terrain. Satisfied at last that there was no one in sight, Koume found the circle's southernmost point and traced an arcane symbol in white-hot fire. Swirling patterns ignited on the surface of the glass. The surface bubbled and warped, then gave way, gooey streams dripping into the darkness below. Kotake sighed in relief as a blast of cool air hit her face, a welcome change from the suffocating heat of the open desert.

They wound through the dark tunnels by memory. Carved out from an ancient lava tube, the cavern stretched for miles beneath the mesa. Her sister grumbled at the damp, the low ceilings, and the musty smell, but Kotake relished it all. (Well, maybe not the smell.) For a few wonderful minutes, all was silent and still except for the occasional plink-plop of water dripping somewhere in the distance.

The wizard's rattling laugh as they entered the deepest chamber set her teeth on edge. As always, he sat waist-deep in the spring, scarlet robe trailing in the phosphorescent water. Tendrils of sickly purple had already invaded nearly half the pool, and its once steady light now flickered and sputtered, deepening the creases in the narrow strip of his face not obscured by his hood and veil. She wondered how long it would be until he sucked this one dry like the last three.

A massive stone trident was stuck into the ground beside the pool, the red gem in its head glittering like a keese's eye. She glanced at it just long enough to verify that it hadn't moved.

"It seems this fellow was telling the truth, Kotake," her sister remarked when his cackling finally abated.

He bowed, somehow both entreating and smug. "What can I say? You're welcome."

"That young lady is still their prisoner," Kotake said pointedly. "Lord Ganondorf will not be pleased if any harm comes to her. He was beginning to talk of riding for Hyrule himself to rescue her. It was not easy to dissuade him."

The wizard's glee evaporated in an instant. "Does he not understand the purpose of a decoy? He will die if he goes to Hyrule, mark my words!"

Kotake clucked her tongue. "We tried to tell him, but he never listens to his old mothers anymore. Thankfully, Nabooru took action on her own."

"Only time I'll ever be thankful for that brat," Koume muttered.

The wizard steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His hands were the most unsettling thing about him. Maggoty white and knobby, nails sharpened to a point, and never still. "May as well let her be, for as long as she's useful."

Kotake looked up at him with a rigid frown. "Good women died for this. We believed you for our son's sake, and because you claimed to speak the will of the God." Her voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. "But if we find out you're lying to us…"

"I am not lying," he cut her off. "You'll see. History is in the making—and the unmaking. Soon enough we'll know who was telling the truth. Oh yes. This time you'll see I was right."

She narrowed her eyes. "This time?"

"I have foreseen many fates." His annoying grin returned, those pale hands tracing some imaginary diagram in the air as he muttered to himself, "Hmm, yes. This must be the fifth."

She glanced at her sister, but Koume just snorted and rolled her eyes. She had long since stopped trying to decipher his rambling.

He rose, billowed to the edge of the pool like a cloud of red smoke. At full height he was as tall as Lord Ganondorf. When he spoke his voice had dropped an octave, and anyone but a four hundred year old sorceress would have flinched.

"He will not be patient forever, Twinrova."

* * *

Restless dreams drove Nabooru from her bed long before dawn. Hours later, as light from the tall, narrow windows stretched in thin stripes across the tile floor, she could feel the ache of exhaustion growing between her shoulders and behind her eyes, but still her feet carried her up and down the halls, mind swirling with a hundred thoughts she didn't need. Every once in a while, the echo of her own footsteps made her jump and glance over her shoulder.

Below, in the inner courtyard, a young maid was carrying an armful of flowers up the stairs leading to the royal family's quarters. (Nabooru's mind wandered to her collection of potted succulents, clustered in the sunny spot on her bedside table. Beiru's cat was probably spilling them all on the floor this very minute.) Across the square, the forge in the blacksmith's workshop glowed orange. A thick-armed woman was shaping horseshoes at the anvil while her apprentice sharpened a sickle, likely preparing for the rice harvest. At the inner gate two workers unloaded crates of eggs from a wagon bearing the logo of Lon Lon Ranch. All around, the routines of life continued, oblivious to the political machinations upstairs.

Two of His Grace's chief minions, Grand Chancellor Potho and Minister Herald Chirila, wanted to review the facts with her before the trial, so as not to waste the king's precious time. Hylians certainly did love their meetings. Formal meetings, informal meetings, meetings in hallways disguised as conversations. Meetings about meetings! This one, however, she suspected would be more of an interrogation. She wasn't giving them anything until they let her see Parapa. In spite of Impa's promises, she still had no solid proof that she was alive. Would they really have invited her into the castle, put on such a show, if they had already killed her? She didn't like to think the worst, but it was hard not to in this place where there was a lie on every tongue and a conspiracy in every corner.

A tiny shuffling sound caught her ear. There _was_ someone behind her. She whirled, trying not to look too startled, and saw… no one.

"Ahem."

Nabooru looked down, met wide blue eyes and a shining golden Triforce medallion. It was impossible not to look startled then.

"Good morning, Lady Nabooru." The princess's voice was saccharine, over-polite, and her smile was tight at the corners.

"Your Highness." She bowed slightly.

"May I have a moment of your time?"

"You may have two or three, if you like."

Zelda tittered into a gloved hand and fell into step beside her. "I hope you found your rooms comfortable."

"Yes. We appreciate your hospitality." The mattress was lumpy, and their little baskets of potpourri could not fully mask the stench of the midden outside, but it was their best room.

"Minister Chirila gave you the grand tour yesterday, I believe?" There was a note of apology in her voice. Nice to know there was one person in this castle who wasn't impressed by that swaggering popinjay. "If you need help finding anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

"We're fine… well, actually, Riza and Liana wanted to know where the library is." Some of her younger sisters didn't completely understand the gravity of Parapa's situation, and saw their visit to the castle as an exciting adventure. She would let them think so for now. There was nothing they could do anyway.

Zelda seemed eager for the chance to be helpful. "Down that hall over there, take a left, go up the stairs, and it'll be the second set of doors past the guard tower. They won't be disappointed. Not to boast, but we have one of the largest collections in Hyrule."

Nabooru's only reply was a distracted nod. They turned down a side corridor that was mostly used for storage. Less windows and more privacy. The princess gathered herself up. When she turned to face her, all the sweetness was gone.

"I won't tire you with small talk. Have you heard what the courtiers are whispering? About King Ganondorf's true reason for wanting Zora's Sapphire?" Her voice caught on "king" and Nabooru wondered if it was dislike of the man, or of the fact that her people still had their own leader.

"Rumors aren't always reliable."

"Indeed not, and my father is not rash enough to act on rumors alone."

"Or visions?" Nabooru couldn't resist adding. Ganondorf's ambitions weren't the only subject of courtly gossip. The girl reddened and averted her gaze, but only for an instant.

"We have a witness who can offer much more compelling evidence, if you will hear him. It is rather bold of me to ask for your trust at a time like this… but the fate of the entire world is at stake." She folded her hands over her heart. "Please believe us, Lady Nabooru."

Nabooru's level stare asked, _why should I?_

"We were wrong not to include you in our plans," she admitted. "If I could have found a way to contact you without risking everything… I believe you would have seen things as I do." An excuse dressed up as an apology, with a dash of condescension for good measure.

Fortunately for her, Nabooru was a patient soul. She crouched to meet her at eye level. Zelda looked surprised, as if, in spite of her supposed boldness, she wasn't used to being taken seriously. "Princess, let me be completely honest with you. If we're not careful here, there's going to be a war. That's not a threat, just a fact."

"I understand," said Zelda, nodding patiently.

"Good." She couldn't really understand—she would have been maybe five, sheltered in her father's castle, when the last war ended—but at least she was aware in the abstract. "We don't want that any more than you. I'm only here for Parapa. She's an old friend of mine."

Zelda blinked. "Oh. I didn't realize you two knew each other."

"We go way back. But even if we didn't, she's Gerudo. We look out for each other. I could care less about the Zora and their trinket."

A crease formed in Zelda's brow. "You don't believe in the Triforce, do you?"

"I'm not here to make fun of your religion," Nabooru said with a shrug. "Now, Ganondorf has done some bad things—trust me, I know—but unless he's violated a treaty, or broken laws in _your_ territory, it's not your people's place to put another nation's king on trial. Not for something you only suppose he might be trying to do."

Rose-petal lips curved in a stubborn frown. "I would very much like you to meet my friend. He has a different story to tell."

"This friend of yours, he's been to the desert?"

"He's been many places."

"And he understands the intricacies of clan politics—age-old rivalries, shifting alliances, a hundred different interpretations of tradition, brought together once a century by the one tradition we all agree on?"

 _Do you know what it means to us,_ she couldn't say, _to have to watch the head of our nation kneel before your father? Do you understand why I can't be led by personal hatred? Do you think I don't know Ganondorf better than you?_

Zelda tried to form a reply, gave up and stared at her helplessly. And Nabooru stood, equally helpless with this four foot scrub of a girl blocking her path, trying to figure out what to say so the princess would let her go back to her room and get an hour of sleep before breakfast.

"He's a time traveler," Zelda burst out.

Nabooru squinted, wondering if lack of sleep had dulled her hearing. "A what?"

She heard a smoky hiss, glanced back just in time to see Impa materialize like an ink stain bleeding through parchment.

"Pardon my interruption," she said, in the casual tone of one who knew her interruptions would always be pardoned. "Zelda, I wanted to let you know that your father has agreed to your request to have Parapa moved to the tower room."

Nabooru shot Zelda a questioning look.

"I thought she would be more comfortable there," Zelda explained. "Not that I hoped her stay would be prolonged."

Though she still addressed the princess, Impa tilted her head slightly so that Nabooru got the feeling her next words were meant for her. "They're transferring her right now, in fact. If someone were to look out from over there…" She gave a slight nod to a single open window across the main hall. "They might be able to see her."

"Hurry," Zelda said softly. "Don't miss her."

Nabooru bowed again, walked very calmly across the hall, looked back to make sure the princess and her bodyguard weren't watching, then made a dash and vaulted over the sill, aiming for a narrow spire atop the garrison a story below. She hit the slate roof hard. Her teeth rattled as she slid down the uneven surface. Behind and above, she heard Zelda's startled cry—she must have been following her after all—but most of her attention was focused on controlling her momentum. She dropped onto the flat rooftop in front of the tower door. It was locked. (Just as well, it was likely full of soldiers who would harass her with questions she didn't have time for.) Marching footsteps came from below, growing steadily louder. She hopped nimbly down the branches of a small tree at the corner of the building and landed soft-footed in the courtyard, just as the garrison doors creaked open.

Soldiers… two heavily-armored knights and a mage… more soldiers…

There was Parapa, head and shoulders above the sea of gray helmets, cool and dignified as a queen even now. She squinted like it had been quite a while since she'd seen daylight, but she didn't seem to be starving or injured. When she caught sight of Nabooru, her face melted into a smile of pure relief.

"I'm here, Sister!" Nabooru called out to her, jogging to keep up with the procession. "Just hang on a little longer."

The guards weren't keen on letting them have a long conversation, and quickened their pace. Parapa looked back, shouting something she couldn't quite hear. All she caught was "tricked me," and "little green devil." The doors shut, the lock rattled, and she was gone.

Nabooru lingered a while in the yard, staring up at the coursing gray bricks and iron-barred windows. She tried to stay optimistic. Parapa was alive. At least now she knew someone was here for her. They would find a way to talk some sense into the Hylian king. They would not start a war. She would bring Parapa home, and maybe Ganondorf would just stay hidden on the far side of the desert with his magic rocks and his wild dreams, and never bother her again.

She scoffed at herself. Trust a pair of kings to be reasonable? That was too optimistic.

A soft footfall, a flicker of movement at the corner of her eye. Impa was standing an arm's length away, watching her.

"Do you always sneak up on people?"

She laughed through her nose. "If I meant to, you would not have seen me. Do you always jump out of third-floor windows?"

"Only when I'm in a hurry."

It was hard to tell if the quirk of Impa's eyebrows was amused or derisive.

"I had to see her," Nabooru said, dropping the sarcastic facade. "To let her know she's not alone."

Impa nodded in understanding. "I'll make sure you have a chance to meet her in private before the trial."

"Tomorrow," she countered. She couldn't afford to trust vague promises.

"Consider it arranged." Impa spoke confidently, and Nabooru believed she could make it happen. She called herself Zelda's attendant, but she seemed to be involved in every important function in the castle. Adviser, administrator, diplomat, spy. People like her were the real power behind any throne. Best to stay on her good side.

Now she _was_ thinking like Ganondorf. She hated that.

"In the meantime," Impa went on, "the chancellor hopes we can reach an understanding today and avoid a long, exhausting trial. He is a good man, with a mind for fairness. You are more likely to find a sympathetic ear in him than any of the other ministers."

She was less worried about a long trial than one that concluded in half a day, because the ministry had decided Parapa's guilt before it began.

"Zelda is waiting for us inside," said Impa, gesturing toward the hall.

Nabooru shook off her gloomy thoughts and followed her up a flight of stairs on the back side of the building.

"Your princess is a strong-willed young woman." It didn't occur to her until after she said it that it might not be taken as a compliment.

"She does what she believes is right."

"Good. So do I."

Impa paused in the middle of the staircase. "Her plan was far more subtle than the one proposed by her father's generals."

Folding her arms, Nabooru returned her level gaze. "You should have come to me first."

"Yes. We should have," Zelda said from the doorway above. There were no excuses in it this time. She came down to them, hands folded meekly in front of her, but when she looked up at Nabooru her eyes were still blue fire. "If our situations were reversed… I would find it very difficult to trust someone who plotted against one of my people, no matter what the reason. I'll do everything in my power to see that Parapa is released. And then… I hope we can find a way to cooperate. Avoiding war must be our first goal."

Nabooru was quiet for a minute. "I was sixteen when I took command of the fortress. I made plenty of mistakes," she told Zelda. "A word of advice. Start acting like a queen now. You'll make a fine one someday, if…"

 _If you learn to be humble. If your father doesn't ruin you. If this thing you people have started doesn't ruin us all._

"If your friend is still in town after my meeting with the chancellor, I'll hear him out."

* * *

"Come on, Link! You can't fish out now!"

Waving away Sedge's good-natured taunt, Link glanced back one more time to make sure he was lined up, crouched, and backflipped off the rampart. He splashed feet first into the moat next to the drawbridge.

Sedge clapped like a polite spectator. "Not bad, not bad!"

"Your turn," said Link as he climbed onto the bank. He dangled his legs in the water, watching the swift current form silvery bubbles over his toes.

"Yeah, okay, in a minute. Let me finish this snail."

"Now who's fishing out?"

Sedge glared and splashed him in the face. "I did it three times already! I've got nothing to prove."

Link shook water out of his bangs, laughing. "Fine then, I'll go again."

Sedge picked the last bits out of the shell as he scaled the wall. Link grinned and made a flying leap out over the river. "Cannonball!" he yelled, tucking up his knees. Sedge wasn't ready, and got a face full of water himself when he landed right next to him. Knowing better than to stick around and savor his revenge, Link dashed for shore, but Sedge caught his ankle. They tumbled under the drawbridge, came up on the other side yelling and splashing. It wasn't long before Sedge got the upper hand.

"All right, I give!" he gasped after the other boy dunked him for the second time.

"Sorry. Too much?"

"I'm fine." Link climbed out of the water, collapsing on his back in the grass. The sky was so wide. So blue.

A slimy, jointed thing skittered past his ear. He rolled to the side and swiped at it. Pain shot through his hand. He lifted it up, glaring. A greenish-brown crawdad dangled from the flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

"Ow."

"Nice! You caught a big one!" Sedge exclaimed.

"It hurts a little."

"Right. Here, let me." Sedge pried its tiny claws open with two fingers. "That looks tasty…"

"You can have it if you want." He didn't have much of an appetite these days, while his friend's seemed endless.

Sedge licked his lips. "Oh, I couldn't."

"Call it even for getting the thing off my hand," Link said with a shrug.

"That's no good. At least I ought to give you something in return. Here, I know!" He pulled a gleaming white conch shell from the satchel at his hip. "I found this at the bottom of the fountain. Pretty, isn't it?"

Link turned it around in the light, watching rainbows shine along its curves. "Wow! Are you sure?"

"Mrrph." Sedge had already bitten off the crawdad's head and was chewing contentedly. Link tried not to make a face as he tucked the shell into his bag. He wasn't like Zelda, who had been vegetarian since the moment she understood what meat was—growing up in the forest, animals eating each other was a fact of life—but he didn't know how anyone could stomach raw shellfish. To each their own.

Sedge backstroked lazily against the current. His eyes wandered to the castle on the horizon. "I wonder what they're still talking about up there. Seems like a pretty open-and-shut case. Princess Ruto is anxious to be done with it."

Link frowned slightly. "Be done with it how?"

"Hanging, I suppose." The casual way he said it made Link feel ill in a whole different way. Sedge was only a few years older than him, and had seen a lot less death in his time.

Then again, he had also _caused_ a lot less death, so who was really more callous?

"Princess Zelda hopes it won't come to that," he said after an awkward pause.

"She has a kind heart, and that's all well and good for a princess. Ours is maybe a little less naive, but she doesn't enjoy the business either. That's why they have soldiers like you and me, to do the terrible necessary things that keep their kingdoms running. I don't mean to sound cold," Sedge added, shaking his head in dismay. "But that woman is Ganondorf's follower. She killed a man. She's just too dangerous."

Link's mind went back to yesterday in the courtyard. Was that how he'd sounded to Zelda?

He didn't really want to think about her right now, though. Every time he recalled their last conversation, he came away more irritated. _Good and evil aren't always straightforward._ Was she going to tell him that now, after everything he'd been through—everything she had not been through? He knew. At the end when he and Ganon faced off in the burning ruins, covered in grime and sweat and each other's blood, drawing on every last ounce of killer instinct to defend what was already lost, "good" and "evil" started to look pretty similar. And what about all the lives he and Zelda had wrecked, trying to save the world?

But it wasn't her fault. It wasn't.

Sedge's hand on his arm startled him so badly that he let out a yell and rolled backward, coming up in a fighting stance. His hand was on his sword before he knew what he was doing.

"Whoa! Calm down!"

He blinked, coming to his senses. Sedge was backing away slowly, wide-eyed. Link jammed the blade back into the scabbard, stumbled and dropped to his knees in the grass.

Sedge laughed nervously. "Did you think I was an octorok or something?"

"Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." Before, Navi's varying hues and musical voice would have cued him whether to expect friend or foe. Left to his own devices, it seemed his instincts would assume the worst.

 _I almost…_

Sedge seemed more worried about him. "Are you okay? You were muttering to yourself."

Link ground the heel of his hand into his eyes. "You know what, I'm going to head back to the inn. I need some sleep."

"All right. Take care of yourself." Sedge started to clap him on the shoulder, then thought the better of it. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"I'm supposed to meet Zelda again tomorrow, but yeah. Maybe." Shouldering his pack, he hurried up the hill and across the drawbridge, barely pausing to wave goodbye.

Evil was pretty straightforward after all, he decided.


	5. Fool me twice

Not much could surprise Impa. Some would credit her "supernatural" abilities, but in truth, most of her insight came from good old-fashioned observation. People weren't all that difficult to predict, once you learned to read them. After a day and a half of carefully watching the Gerudo leader, she had enough to paint her personality in broad strokes: an outgoing introvert, slow to anger but quick to judge, wise beyond her years but stubbornly hopeful. In many ways, she reminded Impa of a more mature, confident Zelda.

The Grand Chancellor of Hyrule was (unsurprisingly) ten minutes late to his own meeting, so the two of them were stuck listening to Minister Chirila tell the Snowpeak story again.

"Now the yeti could see that I am not a man to be trifled with, so he apologized, and offered us his sleigh. It was a great enormous thing of whalebone and iron, the reins all covered in sapphires. And it was pulled by a team of white wolves." He paused to see if Nabooru was impressed.

"Sounds like something out of a folk tale."

"Indeed! It's one of the perks of being an adventurer, seeing wonders others only hear about in stories. Anyway, I told him he could keep his load of salted reekfish. My refined palate can't tolerate that sort of crude savage fare, and we really only wanted the sleigh. So he went on his way, and my cousin and I loaded up our furs and our chest of gold. Now, I don't imagine you know much about travel in the mountains."

"We have mountains back home, actually. Most of the Hebra range is in our country," Nabooru said with a polite smile. Impa wondered if she was thinking about breaking his nose. It was the only way she could smile when she had to talk to the man.

"Well yes, of course, but those little bunny-hills are nothing like Snowpeak, my dear. It is the king of all mountains. But as I was saying…"

Potho finally arrived, accompanied by a brawny man with a cropped beard and long waves of golden-brown hair. Impa recognized him as General Forcys, commander of the Faron legion. What was he doing here?

She made a quick circuit of the room, making sure the door was closed, checking behind the curtains, sweeping for eavesdropping enchantments. Standard procedure.

The chancellor set down a large folio of notes and three pens, which he would not use, and cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?"

Impa took a chair between Nabooru and the general and did what she did best: observed. Chirila was dressed to the nines, diamond cuff-links at his wrists, black hair slicked with enough beeswax to make a dozen candles. He was the only one in the room who seemed entirely comfortable. Nabooru looked like she hadn't slept much, though she hid it well. Forcys had slightly bloodshot eyes too; she thought he might be hung over. Potho occasionally shot a nervous glance his way.

She kept returning to Nabooru's hands. Chipped nail polish, callused bow-finger, a faint old scar across her palm. How her knuckles arched like hissing cats when she looked at the gold wing-crest inlaid in the center of the table, bright new lacquer tracing the ghost of the old king's sigil they had tried to buff away.

Suddenly, she realized Nabooru was looking back at her. Impa shifted in her chair and pretended she'd been listening to the chancellor. It wasn't often she got caught staring.

"Let us be frank," Potho was saying. "High-ranking officials are calling for your friend's execution. In the interest of maintaining good relations between our people, I'd like to avoid that outcome… but do you really mean to argue that she's innocent?"

He meant to put Nabooru off balance, but she didn't flinch. "Parapa did nothing wrong. It's inexcusable that you've held her this long. Still, I agree that it'll be better for all involved if we can move on from this. Since Hyrule and her allies have always behaved honorably toward us…"

Impa didn't need to be an expert at reading people to know _that_ smile was forced.

"We will assume good faith this time," Nabooru went on. "Of course, we expect you to release her immediately."

"You've got brass, Your Ladyship, I'll give you that," Forcys drawled, leaning his elbow on the table. "We have proof that Ganondorf murdered the guardian spirit of the forest. What's more, he threatened our allies and tried to steal their treasures!"

"Regardless of what you believe about our king, he's not the one on trial here."

He cracked his knuckles. "Let's talk about what _she_ did, then. Killed a war hero, for starts."

"Baronet Wister's death is regrettable—"

"Regrettable? Is that all you've got to say after she murdered him in cold blood?"

"He was running at her with an ax."

"Certainly we do not intend to punish this young lady for the crimes of another," Chirila interrupted before Forcys could blow his top. "But the facts seem to speak for themselves. We made King Ganondorf an offer; she appeared to collect. She admits that she was working for him. What else are we to believe?"

"As I understand it, you offered him the stone in exchange for his help."

"Please," Forcys scoffed. "I think we all know how a protection racket works."

 _You_ _would_ , thought Impa, but he was right. Parapa was Ganondorf's trusted agent; she would have heard the rumors about his involvement in the Jabu-Jabu incident. It would be strange if she hadn't put two and two together. Nabooru knew that, though. She was stalling, finding a path through this conversation like she'd found one down the castle rooftop.

"It's hard for me to guess what she knew. I haven't been allowed to see her yet."

Though Impa could have filled in a few of the gaps, she kept quiet. It was best for now if Nabooru didn't find out who had arrested Parapa.

Unexpectedly, she felt a pang of guilt.

"Hmm. I suppose it is possible she didn't have the full story," said Potho. "But she was not merely there as your king's representative. She was disguised as him."

Forcys nodded in agreement. "And let's not forget she fired a shock arrow at Princess Ruto."

Nabooru did falter then, but only for a second. "Your soldiers had cut off her escape route. An army at her back, the river in front of her. What would you do in that scenario? Injure the princess, try to break through the line while they're distracted. And remember, she had no idea why you were attacking her."

"I wonder," said the minister. "The fact that your king sent a very well-armed decoy indicates he was expecting treachery."

"Well, he wasn't wrong."

"That argument won't earn you any favor with the tribunal," said Impa.

"You did tell me to be frank, didn't you?" Nabooru drummed her fingers on the tabletop and leaned forward. "All of you are ready to condemn Parapa, and our great King Ganondorf, because you set a trap for him and she fell into it."

Impa noticed the slight curl of her lip when she said his name. Earlier, talking to Zelda, she hadn't used any honorifics. She was adding them now out of respect for what he meant to her people. Not for him.

"So far, the only conspiracy I can see here is yours. Let me finish," Nabooru said quickly when Forcys started to object. "This secret offer you made wasn't written down anywhere. The Zora messenger… Seggin, was it? He claims he met the Wise Ones, but all we have is his word. No other witnesses, no proof that our people agreed to your terms."

"We have our sources," said Chirila.

Nabooru glanced at Impa. She read the question in her eyes. _Princess Zelda's little friend?_ She kept her expression neutral, and barely nodded. The minister was watching them intently.

"Here's how it might look to a cynic," said Nabooru. "You send a message to King Ganondorf, offering your pretty gemstone in exchange for—let's say land, or an exclusive trade agreement. Something big enough he'd believe it was worth it to you. When he arrives, you ambush him. You get some impressionable kid to tell everyone the deal was something else, you were only defending yourselves. Your peasants are weary of violence and conquest, but a threat to the sacred Triforce? That's more than enough to rally the troops."

Forcys shot to his feet. "You're calling us liars?" he snarled.

Nabooru lifted her hands in a gesture of ambivalence. "I only said, that's how it might look."

"Let's all try to keep our tempers," Chirila tutted. "I find Lady Nabooru's perspective quite valuable. Though _we_ can plainly see Ganondorf's dark ambitions, his people will not be so easily convinced."

Forcys slumped back into his chair, still glaring. "We don't have to convince them!"

"If we don't, our alliance is as good as over. We will make enemies among the Gerudo. Armed conflict is exceedingly likely. I'm sure none of us wants that, right General?"

"Then return Parapa to us," Nabooru pressed.

"That is our goal," said Potho, "but I'm sure you understand that we can't simply sweep this incident under the rug."

Chirila thought for a second. "It's true, though… a great deal is riding on that River Zora's testimony."

Impa knew where this was headed, and no good could come from it. "It doesn't matter if he's a River Zora," she said firmly. "Young Seggin has proven himself trustworthy so far."

Maybe her reaction was a bit too strong, because now Nabooru was interested. "What does that mean? Why would it matter?"

"They're a faction that doesn't want to serve the king of Hyrule," Chirila explained.

"Minister, do you think they'd put their own princess in danger?" Potho sighed, shaking his head. "But we are off topic."

Forcys smirked. "Chirila just hates them because they like to flip over barges and then he has to listen to the merchants complain."

"Indeed, they regularly assault my people without provocation. But Lady Impa says they are trustworthy."

"This is not relevant," Impa said through clenched teeth. _Potho, get them under control or I swear to Grace._

"Pity the army can't help you out. We are all but disbanded since you people up north never want to pay your fair share of taxes."

"Don't be daft. We cannot be expected to feed regular soldiers during peacetime."

"Then expect to lose a few shipments."

"Gentlemen!" Potho thumped the floor with his walking stick. About time. "Let's focus on the case."

"I just want to bring my friend home," said Nabooru when the others had quieted down. "She doesn't deserve to die."

Potho softened a little. "If she was indeed only following orders, it is unfortunate that she's been caught up in this. The king has offered her a way out, though. If she'll help us find him…"

Nabooru didn't answer right away. She was in an impossible position. Defending Ganondorf would make her and Parapa less sympathetic to the judges. Blaming him was practically an invitation to invade her homeland, to say nothing of what would happen if her betrayal reached his ears. And she was surrounded by greedy sycophants looking to profit from her troubles.

Zelda was on her side, though. If only she would believe them.

She lowered her eyes, and Impa could tell she was giving up on this negotiation. "If I know Parapa, she'll never go along with that plan. And if you're trying to use her against King Ganondorf… we are going to have problems."

Forcys bristled. "Is that a threat?"

Nabooru glared right back. "No. A threat is when you kidnap an innocent woman and use her life as a bargaining chip."

The chancellor sighed heavily and rose. "We're finished here."

* * *

As the others were leaving, Potho pulled Impa aside.

"I'm afraid this wasn't a good idea after all," he confessed with a fretful look.

"It wasn't a bad one in principle. But who invited _that_ idiot?"

Potho wrung his hands. "Owlan asked me to bring him in at the last minute. He's going to be leading the army's search for Ganondorf, you see."

Which meant this was now a full-scale military campaign. Zelda's hopes for avoiding war were looking bleaker by the minute.

"Please forgive him for being a little rough around the edges," said Potho. "That is, I know he… had a bit of a reputation during the war, but people do change."

"Sometimes."

"Now we've heard their side of it, at least. I had hoped Lady Nabooru could help us, but alas, it seems her hands are tied. I suppose I can see why she doesn't trust us."

"Don't count her out just yet. The princess thinks she has a way to change her mind."

"You have a great deal of faith in Her Highness."

"Yes."

While Zelda believed, Impa would not give up.

* * *

The journey from the cliffs to the mesa was 18,400 paces. Ganondorf had memorized that number early on. His shadow stretched before him, towering and gaunt, as he trudged along the windward side of the dune. A pair of smaller ones orbited above him, his mothers scouting ahead and returning. They worried far too much. Hylian armies, with their predictable tactics, overladen supply wagons, and generally poor discipline, would give themselves away long before they presented a threat. If by some fluke they did spot him, what of it? He could disappear into the sand sea, and all their sorcery wouldn't help them track him down in this place. They would be lucky to survive—if the leevers and moldorms didn't take care of them, they would soon succumb to the heat, or…

He felt the sound before he heard it, a low roar, like a thousand voices screaming in the distance. He paused, searching. Behind him, the crest of the dune wound toward the sunrise like a ribbon of amber satin. A glorious sight, if there were time to stop and enjoy it. Then the wind shifted and he saw the plume of dust rising in the distance. North. The worst kind. With a low huff of displeasure, he fastened his veil over his nose and signaled to Koume. The cloth pricked at his stubble—four days since he'd shaved. A king, holed up in a cave like a vagrant. It was shameful. He was nearly out of patience with the whole ordeal, especially since Parapa had fallen into the Hylian king's clutches.

"Storm's coming," he informed Koume and Kotake when they landed beside him.

"Mm, I see."

"Shall I get rid of it?" Kotake offered, pale blue already shimmering around her fingertips.

"No. I will not have you squander what little magic and water this land has to offer."

Ganondorf resumed his trek. He didn't blink when the storm struck half a minute later. They pressed on, deaf and blind, through a tan haze so thick he couldn't see he own hand in front of his face. Every breath was tinged with the stench of salt and death. Sand scratched at his eyes and piled up around his ankles. He drew a circle in the air, and a glowing needle materialized, turning slowly until it found north. They were still on course. He started to make his way down the slope. 700 steps to go.

An uprooted leever came flying at his face. In one motion he banished the compass, jabbed his hand through the weak spot in the middle of its "head" and crushed the core. He worked the sepals loose, avoiding the curved spines along the edge, and tossed the rest aside.

As a rule, where there is one leever, there are more. They rushed past on one side and then the other, whirling blades thumping against his hard leather boots. A trifling nuisance, but Ganondorf was not one to be patient where there was nothing to be gained. He skewered one of the creatures with his dagger, pivoted and stomped on another. Juice splattered everywhere, and that brought the whole colony down on him in a blood-crazed frenzy. He kicked the carcass away and took a few steps back, let them gather to feed. When they had lined themselves up for the slaughter, he unsheathed his swords and charged, blades weaving in a swift, deadly dance. He cut through the heart of the swarm with a whirling slash, the same maneuver he taught to his elite guards—if he was going to kill them he would not be _sloppy_ about it. Pulp and thorns rained down around him as he landed, soft-footed, and flicked juice off his swords.

Thanks to those pests he'd lost all sense of direction. Growling in annoyance, he stopped to call up the compass again and wondered, not for the first time, how it had come to this.

Last autumn, it seemed his carefully-laid plans were finally coming to fruition. The foolish Hylian king was putty in his hands. His precocious daughter, who liked to glare at him through the courtyard window and whine about his "sharp eyes," had found herself a useful idiot in some kid from the forest, who Ganondorf had not cared to notice until he saw he was carrying the Kokiri's Emerald. A new scheme formed. The kid proceeded to undo all Ganondorf's hard work with the Gorons and Zora, and he sat back and watched, waiting for the moment when he would make better use of Zelda's idiot than she ever could.

Then, just as all the pieces were positioned for endgame, the Sisters of the Dusk brought word that the boy hadn't collected the stones after all. He recalled his mothers' uneasy glances, as if the news confirmed some long-held fear. Things began to happen rather quickly after that, and soon he found himself in the very situation he hated most: in the dark and out of control, literally hiding under a rock in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a sign from some ghost of an ancient wizard they had dug up in the wastes.

The compass was pointing the wrong direction. He took out his frustration by flinging it to the ground and started to backtrack. Something brushed his shoulder. He reached out, thinking it might be one of his mothers, but his hand met solid rock. The mesa. As he was working out what side he was on, Koume ran into his back. He lifted his cloak, offering her a bit of shelter.

"Where's Kotake?" he shouted over the howling wind.

Her reply was muffled, but she pointed to the sky and he understood. He would be up there too, if he could do it without consuming every last drop of magic he had left. (One of these days he would figure out the secret of those enchanted brooms. _Nobody learns this with less than a hundred years' practice_ , Koume had told him, but he would prove her wrong.)

They made their way along the wall, feet sliding cautiously to avoid falling into a crevice. A shelf jutted out, offering some protection, and they paused there to get their bearing. Through the swirling dust, he spotted the outline of a skeletal tree on the ledge above. He followed the line of the trunk down to a crack in the rocks, where the knobby roots offered him a natural ladder.

The storm finally began to subside as he climbed. By the time he reached the top of the ledge, the wind had almost returned to normal and he could see the sun again, high enough now to make the dunes shimmer. The path was easier from here, with the rocks forming a natural staircase. He pulled off his veil, spitting out sand, shook more out of his clothes and hair. Behind him Koume was doing the same, grumbling the whole time that she was too old for this.

Halfway up they found Kotake waiting for them. He handed her the leever parts. "For your potions."

"Ohoho! Thank you!" She clapped her hands. "I've been working on a little something I think you'll like."

"I look forward to it."

He swept past her, leading the way to the summit. At first glance there was nothing unusual about the figure who stood waiting for them, aside from that outlandish red robe, but the wind, no matter how strong, never stirred his clothes, and his form cast no shadow.

The wizard genuflected as Ganondorf approached. He didn't believe for a second that the man was a prophet. He probably had an informant in the Hylian royal court—everyone in that place had their price—which left only the question of his motives. Fear, greed, or revenge? For a ghost, the latter seemed most likely. Maybe he was resolving a grudge so he could move on to the next life. Then again, maybe he worked for the Hylians after all.

Whatever game he thought he was playing, Ganondorf would take without giving and use without needing until he was no longer useful, and it served him right if he thought he could outwit the king of thieves. ( _They_ were the ones who called him that. Let them, for now, as long as they got used to calling him king.)

"Your advice was not without merit," he said, after letting him grovel for a minute.

"Pleased to have been of service, Your Majesty." The wizard dipped his head again in a caricature of humility.

"But I cannot be pleased with the result. Not only did we fail to acquire the Sapphire, but one of my own people has been taken hostage. This, however, I do not blame on you." He turned sharply, glaring at Koume and Kotake. They flinched and huddled together, clutching at each other's sleeves.

"Yo-you did agree to the plan!" Kotake quavered, raising one hand defensively.

" _You_ promised nothing would happen to her!" he snarled. He could see the wizard's reflection in the jewel on her forehead. The eager gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. _As I thought._

"She hasn't been hurt!" Koume said hastily. "Our man in the castle assured us of that."

"You're taking his word for it?"

"Psh. He's not brave enough, or stupid enough, to lie to us."

"Heh heh. He knows what happened to the fellow we had before him," Kotake agreed.

"Everything is under control now. Nabooru will bring her home."

"No. I can no longer trust you to handle this, and I most certainly do not trust _Nabooru_." He took a deep breath. "I am the king. My people's safety is my responsibility."

"Indeed. You are the hope of the Gerudo." The wizard spoke calmly enough, but there were anxious lines bunching at the corners of his eyes. "If anything should happen to you… it would be a disaster. For _all_ your people."

He glowered. "Retrieving Parapa is a matter of pride."

"If I may be so bold—"

"You may not," Ganondorf cut him off.

The wizard forced a smile.

"Please, Sire. Give us one more chance," Kotake urged. "Let me show you my little surprise… perhaps we won't have to depend on Nabooru after all."

He lifted one eyebrow. "What exactly have you been working on?"

"A backup plan. One way or another, we'll have her home within the fortnight."

"You have five days."

Koume and Kotake bowed, sensing that he would hear no more discussion on the subject.

"In the meantime…" He turned back to the wizard. "That kid has proven to be more trouble than I thought. Tell me what you've seen of his future."

"That boy will be a thorn in your side. He knows too much, and somehow he has the king of Hyrule's ear."

"I could figure that out on my own. How did he know not to open the Door of Time? What are he and the princess planning now?"

"My visions only warned me that you would be in danger. Beyond that, I cannot say."

"How unhelpful."

The wizard offered an apologetic look. "Alas, it is not mine to decide when these things are revealed to me. But the God does not trifle needlessly with the affairs of mortals. As surely as you live, my king, He has great things in store for you."

"As surely as you're dead, I will not be a pawn. But by all means, continue your attempts at flattery. I do rather enjoy it."

The wizard chuckled. "Dead? I am merely… corporeally inconvenienced at the moment."

"Hmph. Call it what you will."

Ganondorf strode to the edge of the cliff and folded his hands behind his back, looking out over the vast desert. Horizon to horizon, his to protect, or avenge. And he would, because unlike the gods, he felt his people's suffering.

He glanced back at the wizard. The other man hurried to his side.

"I have plans of my own," he said. "Regardless of what happens with Parapa, I have no intention of hiding in a cave forever. If anything, now is the time to be bold. Knowing the future ought to give me an edge."

The wizard lowered his head, waiting.

"You will be my adviser," Ganondorf decided. "And when I've conquered Hyrule, if you have proven wise and loyal, you will be rewarded. For now… accept this." He stretched out his hands. A ring of shimmering green light encircled the wizard's feet. Wisps of pale smoke rose up, wrapping around him like a cocoon. The air thrummed with magic power; the whole mesa shuddered. After a few seconds the smoke cleared, and the wizard let out a deep sigh of satisfaction as he flexed his limbs, solid flesh and bone now. A lavish gift, and a leash.

"You have served your king well, Agahnim."

* * *

Nabooru got up when the sun was peeking over the horizon. She wrote a long letter to Beiru, made sure Riza and Liana were staying out of trouble, then took her bow and went down to the barracks yard. A group of soldiers—from the look of them, probably two-year recruits from the provinces—were drilling by the gate. They didn't notice her, or if they did, their passing curiosity wasn't enough to risk running laps.

She found an old barrel and worked on her form for a while. Taking a stance, she closed her eyes, conscious of her body and breath, and let the arrow fly, targetless but not aimless. The routine motions gave her mind a much-needed anchor. Her fears circled like snarling coyotes, but she pushed back, reminding herself to live in the present, do what she could.

Afterward, she found a little hill out front of the castle where it was quiet. Crickets hummed in the warm, still air. It seemed like a good place to relax.

Except there was a creepy one-eyed rock watching her.

During the war, Sheikah agents had used those things to spy on people. Were they still listening now? Probably. She tried to move out of its line of sight, but its gaze seemed to follow her everywhere. At last she walked up to it, crouched down and poked it in the forehead. It felt like ordinary stone. The more she stared at it, though, the more the hollow of the pupil seemed to draw her in…

"Looking for something?"

Nabooru jumped. Impa was standing behind the gossip stone. There was no way she could have been there the entire time.

"I was just curious about it."

"These stand for our three guiding principles." Impa pointed to the triangles that formed the eye's lashes. "Remember truth, witness truth, speak truth."

"Hmm." Nabooru pursed her lips. "You always speak the truth?"

"We don't tell lies."

"That's not quite the same thing, is it?"

A thin smile. "No."

 _You_ _all_ _spoke quite a bit of truth to the old king, before you decided to trade him in for his nephew_ , Nabooru thought with a slight glare at the statue, but that _was_ better left unsaid.

"They have other uses too."

Curiosity got the better of her. "Like what?"

Impa flicked her wrist, producing a knife, and struck the gossip stone's forehead. For a split second, it wobbled like jelly. A reedy, slightly garbled voice came from she wasn't quite sure where, informing them, "The time is 8:55."

"Huh," said Nabooru. "Unsettling, but helpful."

Impa twirled the knife, then made it disappear again. "You should see what happens when you hit one with a bomb. But not here. We'd probably break a window." Nabooru puzzled over that for a second, but forgot everything else when Impa said, "You may see Parapa now, if you're ready."

 _Finally._ "Lead the way."

Impa knew every shortcut in the castle, of course. She took them through a side door Nabooru wouldn't have noticed, down a winding staircase into a huge, drafty chamber where an underground waterfall thundered into the main cistern. They crossed on a narrow stone bridge.

"It's slick. Watch your step," Impa shouted.

Nabooru was relieved when they reached the other side. They entered a maze of narrow, torch-lit corridors lined with heavy iron doors. Impa never hesitated at a turn, and Nabooru had to take long strides to keep up. She made a few attempts at conversation, met with cordial but brief replies. Finally she gave up on it. To be honest, she preferred it that way.

Impa came to a sudden halt in front of a door that looked just like all the others. "By the way," she said, and it was never just _by the way_ when people used that tone. "I'd advise you to be wary of any ideas Minister Chirila tries to put into your head about the Zora."

"I don't let other people put ideas in my head as a rule."

That faint half-smile was growing on her. "That's what I thought."

They emerged into daylight across from the tower. The knight guarding the door stepped aside with a wary glance at Nabooru. Impa unlocked it and turned to look at her. "By the way."

Nabooru raised a questioning eyebrow when she trailed off.

She seemed to change her mind. "Princess Zelda will receive you in her private courtyard. Can you find it, or should I have someone escort you?"

"I'll manage." She paused on the first stair. "You're the only one who's tried to do right by us. Not saying I owe you anything, but… I'll remember this."

For the first time, Impa seemed agitated. Uncertain. "I should tell you," she began, but stalled again.

"What?"

"Forget it," she whispered, and closed the door.

* * *

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the tower room. At first she could only see Parapa's shadow framed by the single tiny window.

"Hey you," she whispered.

Parapa gasped and turned, wide-eyed. Nabooru ran to her and the taller woman tumbled into her arms, shaking from head to foot.

"Nab, you're here… oh, thank heaven!"

Nabooru clung to her, swaying lightly. "You're going to be all right. I promise."

After a long while Parapa straightened and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I'm so scared! How did this happen? They're talking about—" She gulped, pressing a hand to her throat. "Talking about executing me. These damn barbarians _hang_ people. I don't want to die like that…" She broke off, shuddering, and buried her face in her friend's shoulder again. Nabooru stroked her hair, tried to come up with words of comfort even as a fresh wave of doubt washed over her.

Parapa muttered a curse and dashed away her tears. "I'm sorry. I tried to be brave in front of them, but I was alone and didn't know what was going to happen and… I think I said too much."

"You've been through a lot. Don't apologize." Nabooru led her to the narrow straw cot in the corner and they sat down. "Did they hurt you?"

"They didn't beat me, if that's what you mean." Parapa closed her eyes, took another long, slow breath. "A dungeon full of rats isn't exactly comfortable to begin with. At first they had me on stale bread and water. I couldn't sleep much. One night they put me in some kind of cellar. It was pitch-black and damp, and my back ached because it wasn't quite big enough to lie down. I know that's mild compared to what they did to people during the war, but…"

"It's unacceptable. They treat their pigs better," Nabooru snapped. She would have a word with Zelda when she saw her.

"They must have been trying to wear me down. The next morning, the princess's favorite guard came in and asked me a lot of questions."

Her face fell. "You mean Impa?"

"Yes, that's her name. She's the one who arrested me and brought me here."

It shouldn't be a surprise. A faithful servant of the crown, one who had built her career on subterfuge, was just as two-faced as everyone else in this castle. Why would that shock anyone? Yet Nabooru felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She cursed herself for being so gullible. "What did she want to know?"

"Mostly about Zora's Sapphire. What I knew about it, what King Ganondorf was planning to do with it, more importantly where and when I'd seen him last."

"Did she hurt you?" Nabooru asked in a low voice, dreading the answer.

"No. She tried to act like my friend, said she and the princess wanted to help me, but I had to tell them everything."

"Sounds like her style," Nabooru muttered.

"Of course I didn't fall for that, so then she tried guilt. She told me all kinds of awful lies about the king, and said I was being willfully ignorant. Then she got out the truth-stones."

Nabooru recoiled in disgust. "They're still using that kind of forbidden magic?"

"Are you surprised? I kept quiet—those things do lower your inhibitions a little, but they can't _make_ you talk. She explained exactly what was going to happen to me if I wouldn't cooperate." A look of shame crossed her face. "I just wanted her to go away… I told her she wouldn't get anything from me, that we hadn't seen each other last summer and we barely spoke then, and my orders came by guay so I couldn't tell her where he was if I wanted to. I didn't think that would help them at all, but they must have liked something I said, because they finally gave me some real food, and then yesterday they moved me up here."

Nabooru was quiet for a minute, wracking her brain. "We need to come up with some way to prove you weren't after their damn magic triangle that doesn't really exist."

"Nothing will change their minds. They want him, and they mean to use me to get to him, one way or another. But I won't play their game. I'll die first." Parapa squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, they were full of intensity. "Nab, listen. If he tries to come for me you have to stop him. The Wise Ones told me—"

"Forget him. I don't want to talk about him." _As if he'd risk his neck for someone else._

"But this is all about him. You know that. I'm just the bait."

And she was right, because they knew the Triforce wasn't real. This was all a show, just as she'd feared. There could be no appeals to compassion or justice; their myths, laws, and courts, even their king were all just gears in a massive ugly grinding machine that only knew how to destroy.

"We'll find a way," she insisted, speaking over her own despairing thoughts. "Did he tell you it was supposed to be one of the keys to their Sacred Realm?"

"No. From what I understand even the Zora didn't know that, until now."

"But somehow he found out," Nabooru muttered.

Parapa looked out the window. "When we were younger… he used to talk about a 'Golden Power' that could grant wishes for whoever touched it. He loved that kind of thing—dusty books, ancient legends, lost artifacts. But I never took him seriously." For a moment she looked wistful. "He's always been something of a dreamer, you know."

"I guess you could say that."

"Well. A few months ago I was out at Tahakov Canyon when I received a lockbox. Encrypted with my key charm, a letter bearing his seal inside. I was surprised. Happy, at first, that he still trusted me that much. But the orders were so strange… Do you think he's really searching for the Triforce?" Parapa whispered.

"Don't know, don't want to know. I've been trying to cover for him, but the best thing you can do right now is distance yourself. I know it goes against your sense of honor," she said when Parapa's face turned stubborn, "but like you said, they've made up their minds about him, and that won't change whether you live or die. Let him chase his fables. If he cared so much about you he'd be here right now."

"That's not fair."

"What's not fair is him purposely sending you into danger he wouldn't face himself."

"He is the king. It's my job—"

"What's _not fair_ is them making you the scapegoat for an imaginary crime," she said, louder. For one burning instant she loathed all of them, the kings and Impa and that self-righteous chancellor, and yes, the princess too, because it had been her plan, it was her fault Parapa was here. "You always care so much about what's fair and right for everybody else! I wish you'd be selfish, for once!"

Parapa stared unseeing at the wall, looking as if she were already marching to the gallows. "The Sisters of the Dusk exist for this reason. There are always risks." Her voice broke. "I knew that going in."

Nabooru pulled her into another hug. "No, no. Don't you give up yet."

"I'm not. But… I don't know what we're going to do."

They were quiet for a little while.

"You still have that lockbox?"

"No. I left it in my cache at the canyon."

"Wait… wait." She sat bolt upright, struck by an epiphany. "Tahakov Canyon, you said? A few _months_ ago?"

"Yes."

"That's it!" She clasped Parapa's hands, eyes bright with renewed hope. "That's how we prove you innocent."

* * *

There was no pleasant breeze in the courtyard today. Link wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve and tried to keep a bit of distance between himself and the princess. Impa had met him at the front gate and escorted him in, robbing him of his usual dip in the moat.

"Then she jumped right out the window and went surfing down the roof! It was amazing," Zelda gushed. "But she acted like it was nothing. Did you know she became head of the fortress when she was sixteen?"

"Really? I hadn't heard that." In truth, there was a lot he didn't know about the sages.

Zelda bit her lip. "I'll be sixteen in four years."

"Yeah," he said, wondering what Sheik had been like at sixteen. A hardened warrior? Still a lost princess? Something between? "I mean, that's a ways off."

"She told me to start acting like a queen. I'm not really sure what she meant. Link…" She gave him one of those long, searching gazes, halfway between awe and worry. "How did you manage it? Waking up as an adult, suddenly having all that on your shoulders."

He scuffed his toes in the grass. "I don't know. Just kept moving, I guess."

For a minute she was lost in thought. "I'm sorry you've been dragged into this again. You were chosen by destiny, but… I think we're on a different path now." She looked at him with eyes like bottomless blue pools. "What I mean to say is, you've already saved Hyrule. I can hardly ask any more of you. If you don't want to—"

"I'll fight for you," he interrupted, because he couldn't bear to hear her say that, after everything. "In the past or the future. Always."

 _Peace has returned to Hyrule… it is time for us to say goodbye._ He brushed the memory aside.

"You'll always be our hero," said Zelda, "but I hope you won't have to fight this time."

"Don't worry. I'm good at it."

"You're good at lots of things."

"I used to be good at playing the ocarina." There it was again, the ugly feeling he couldn't quite name.

"You have one, don't you? The one your friend gave you?"

He remembered again that he did have Saria's ocarina, because in this life it hadn't shattered when Ganondorf knocked him down with a blast of evil magic that day outside the town gate. It had been too long since he talked to her, even though he thought about her every day. He took it out of his bag, lightly brushed his thumb over the pebble-smooth surface.

"I would love to hear you play some time," said Zelda.

"I'm out of practice, though."

"That's all right. I let you watch me fumble around at water magic."

He glanced sideways at her. "If I remember, you complained it should be easy."

The princess stuck her tongue out at him.

From a tower high above, the bells rang two o'clock. She frowned, glancing toward the archway. "Impa said she'd be right back."

"Do you think something's wrong?" he whispered, reaching for his sword out of habit.

"Probably not."

They waited a few more minutes. The guard Impa had left in charge of them rolled his shoulders and tried not to yawn. Zelda bounced on her toes, caught herself and stopped. She got very quiet, and Link could tell she was hatching a plan.

"It's not like her to be tardy." She lowered her voice. "Let's go find them."

Before he could react, she flicked her hand toward the guard, and a gust of wind plucked his helmet off his head. He lunged after it, but he stumbled and it splashed into the moat. In the two seconds he spent fishing it out, Zelda grabbed Link by the wrist and bolted into the garden.

They darted through a hedge. She found a spot to hide behind a couple of large crates that were stacked beside a turret projecting out from the great hall.

"You've been practicing," he said when he caught his breath.

"Mmhm."

The guard ran by, cursing. Link felt a little bad for him—he would get in trouble for sure—but no, he was supposed to be looking out for the princess's safety and he'd been careless. They needed to step it up around here.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, helping her slide the crates so they could climb up to a bay window on the second floor.

"Yes. Probably."

* * *

Nabooru's heart was racing as she descended the tower stairs. If her plan worked, they would have indisputable proof that Parapa hadn't been part of any extortion plot. She wasn't thrilled about making Ganondorf look like a martyr, but it was worth it to save her friend's life.

On her way out the door, she almost ran over Minister Chirila.

"Ah, Lady Nabooru. Just who I've been looking for."

"Minister. Excuse me, but I'm in a hurry to meet someone." She wanted to hear what Zelda's friend had to say, even if she would never trust any of them again.

"I won't be but a moment," Chirila insisted. "After reflecting on some of the things you said this morning, I've come to realize that perhaps my opinion of King Ganondorf was rooted in prejudice. We have indeed presumed him guilty on rather flimsy evidence."

"I'm glad you're keeping an open mind. You just wanted to tell me that?"

"I had hoped to speak with you a bit more about a certain matter my colleagues seem reluctant to discuss."

Nabooru took a step closer, forcing him to look up at her, and planted her hands on her hips. "If this is about the River Zora…" Impa had warned her not to listen to him. On second thought, _Impa_ had warned her not to listen to him. "Actually, yes. What can you tell me about them?"

She didn't like the eager sparkle in his eyes. "During the war, King Arkenhalm placed some harsh demands on the Zora. He needed their help building bridges, canals… tunnels, and the like. They started to resent him soon enough. Some decided to break bridges instead."

"Sounds like a few of them never got out of that habit."

Chirila's smile was rigid. "Yes. Eventually they convinced their countrymen to join the rebellion. Most chose the obvious path of supporting Arkenhalm's rival. Others, however, asked why they were replacing one overlord with another. They called themselves the Free River Folk, or just River Zora."

"I'm not sure what this has to do with me."

"Bear with me; I am getting to that. The River Zora only cooperate with Hyrule for now because their king wishes it. Their long-term goal is to persuade him to seek independence."

"So if, for example, someone threatened Lord Jabu-Jabu and the Hylians couldn't protect them…"

"Precisely. Now, that Seggin boy was raised in their ideology. An 'impressionable kid,' you might say. When you pointed out how we were relying entirely on his word, it opened my eyes to a far more sinister possibility. What if… he never delivered the message at all? What if his purpose was not to deliver it, but to make His Grace believe he had?"

"Interesting," Nabooru said slowly, "but it doesn't change the fact that your people plotted against our king."

"Ah yes, but where did that plot originate?"

Her brow furrowed. "Princess Zelda?"

She had very little goodwill to spare for Her Highness right now, but even so, this was a grown man in a position of considerable power laying the blame for an international crisis on an over-imaginative twelve year old. Then again, Zelda was a clever young woman. Very convinced of her own righteousness. Her disdain for Ganondorf was no secret. But could she really be that devious? She would have to have been planning this for months or even years.

 _She does what she believes is right. Her plan was far more subtle than the one proposed by her father's generals._

Chirila drew a sharp breath. "Forgive me. I have kept you far too long. Good day!" He departed with a hasty bow.

Shaking her head, Nabooru started toward the guest quarters. Her mind was full to the brim, and she really didn't know what she was going to do when she saw…

Impa. There she was, waiting at the far end of the yard.

* * *

Link climbed up ahead of Zelda, glancing around the crate to make sure none of the other guards had spotted them. As usual, they trudged along their patrol routes, never looking anywhere but straight ahead. He pushed the window open and gave her the all clear.

He turned to offer her a hand as they climbed over, but she hopped down nimbly like she'd been doing it all her life. They were in a carpeted hallway, some distance from the main corridor. Zelda took the lead, and they tiptoed along the wall. Her face was flushed with the thrill of adventure.

"Where are we going?" he asked, belatedly.

She peeked around a corner with one eye, pulled back hastily and shoved him behind a curtain. They waited, breathless, as Chancellor Potho walked by.

"Lady Nabooru was at the tower visiting Parapa," Zelda whispered when the thud of his staff had faded. "I wonder if they ran into some trouble. Not everyone was happy about us moving her out of the dungeon."

She looked out again and waved for him to follow. They hurried across the hall into a parlor, where ornately carved tables and blue velvet sofas were arranged around a gilded harpsichord. The whole room smelled like roses. Not quite as nice as springtime in the forest, but pleasant. It seemed like a dead end, though, no windows and no other doors.

"Is… Parapa really going to go free?" he asked, as Zelda led him over to a large stone fireplace.

"Impa and I think we can make a good case for her."

He nodded, tight-lipped. Even though she'd explained to him why it was their best option, he was never going to be happy about it.

"Link, I know this is hard." Zelda frowned, noting how he shied away from her. "Are you still angry with me?"

"What? I wasn't ever—it's not that." Link scratched his neck.

"What's wrong, then?"

"Impa said I stink."

"Really? She's so blunt," Zelda sighed. She leaned in closer than was strictly appropriate and took a cautious sniff. "Oh. You do."

He surprised himself by laughing. _Impa's blunt?_

"You think it's funny, do you? Presenting yourself to your future queen smelling like a barnyard animal?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She snickered and pushed aside the fire-screen. What was she doing?

The future queen hoisted herself into the chimney. He blinked a couple of times, then shrugged and followed. The inside was lined with uneven stones, which made for easy climbing. He made it to the top first, turned and waved at her.

"Show-off," Zelda pouted. "I suppose it's not quite Death Mountain."

He shrugged. "Less monsters, but other than that it's pretty close."

They climbed out of the hearth on the next floor into a plain but comfortable bedroom, startling a plump, pretty woman in a servant's apron. When she realized who it was, she dipped a curtsy, rolling her eyes at the same time.

"Hello, Pearl!"

"Again, Your Highness?"

"Don't worry. This is the gown that's already stained."

A small wrinkle formed on Pearl's forehead. "How wise of you to plan ahead. Oh, you brought a friend this time!"

Link gave her what he hoped was an endearing smile. It hadn't occurred to him before that someone had to wash Zelda's clothes, since she probably wasn't allowed to go swimming in the moat.

Zelda hustled Link out the door, with a cheerful, "Goodbye! Please don't tell my father!" to Pearl. They went down a flight of stairs at the end of the hallway and into a small clerk's office with a writing-desk in one corner and a single large window. He could see the tower outside.

She rubbed her nose, leaving behind a smudge. "Almost there."

They climbed out the window and down a vine trellis, landing in a narrow, grassy corridor lined with spindly cedar trees. Along one wall, dozens of small fountains shaped like birds and fish spilled into a shallow basin.

"We made it through Death Mountain, now on to Zora's Domain!"

She balanced on the rim of the basin, running her fingers through the streams of water. He followed at a slower pace, taking it all in.

"I can't believe you actually went inside Lord Jabu-Jabu."

"Princess Ruto says she does it all the time."

She made a face. "Why?"

"I don't know. It was gross."

Zelda stopped, pointing through a gap in the hedge. "There she is."

He looked and saw Impa standing by the armory, gazing intently across the yard. From this angle he couldn't tell what she was looking at.

"Link," Zelda murmured. Her playfulness had faded. "If there were no more fighting, or prophecies, or saving the world… I would like to think you and I could still be friends."

He was glad—or he should be glad—but all of a sudden it felt like his insides were crumbling and he didn't know what to say, so he just gave her the brightest smile he could muster. The garden was quiet other than the faint music of the fountains. For a short while time seemed to stop.

"Let's go," said Zelda. He followed.

Maybe destiny was finished with him. Maybe now he was just a boy without a fairy again. But he couldn't walk away just yet. He wasn't ready to say goodbye.

* * *

Nabooru's first irrational impulse was to run away. Annoyed with herself, she squared her shoulders and marched right up to Impa. Crossed her arms and waited.

When Impa saw that she was not going to say anything, she took a deep breath and went straight to the point. "You should know the whole truth. I was… not entirely forthcoming about my role in Parapa's case."

"I'll say."

"She told you, then."

"Yeah," Nabooru said acidly.

"I did not mean to conceal it from you this long."

"Hmm. Exactly how long _did_ you mean to conceal it from me?"

Impa looked uncomfortable. Well, she should be. "I was going to tell you after the meeting. There was never a good time."

"Not before, of course, or else I might not have cooperated."

"Yes," she admitted.

"I'm sure you had your reasons," said Nabooru when she saw none were going to be offered. She was ready to let the conversation die there.

"As a leader, I think you can understand. I act in the best interests of our people, even if it sometimes troubles my conscience."

 _Your people aren't here,_ thought Nabooru. _They all exiled themselves out of shame for following orders._

"Do you think the tyrant you work for ever had your best interests in mind?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Impa shot back.

Sh started, eyes widening, as she caught sight of someone behind Nabooru. The princess emerged from a garden behind the armory, with a golden-haired boy about her age in tow.

"Zelda. I thought you were waiting in the courtyard."

"We were starting to worry about you," said Zelda, batting her eyes in the way pretty girls sometimes did to get out of trouble. The hem of her dress was damp, and she had what looked like ash on her face.

"It's my job to worry about you, not the other way around. Come here." Impa licked her thumb and wiped the gray smudge off Zelda's nose.

Nabooru dusted her hands. "Well, since we're all here…"

Nabooru sized the boy up. He was short for his age, unassuming at a glance, but there was a certain glint in his eyes, and the sword on his back looked at home there.

 _Aha. So this is Ryma's little green devil._


End file.
